GrassesAfter immigrating to Canada, my father returned to Italy almost every summer for over twenty years.The land where his family home rises is surrounded by trees; but mostly, it is infested with grasses, some so wild and thick it takes an axe to fell their short but hardy lives. My father’s whipper snipper would echo…Read more Matilda Colarossi: Grasses/ Erbacce
Pinball Matilda Colarossi I had experienced mad. It was just like when your head pops through the tightest part of a turtle-neck sweater and everything is black, and there's that throbbing pressure on your temples. That's how it was for me. It was the burning in your stomach that shoots up to your cheeks, burrowing…Read more Snapshots: Pinball/Flipper by Matilda Colarossi
L’Aquila Matilda Colarossi An earsplitting rumble rips through my dreams shaking the world as I know it to its death. Then all is still. I wake up in a terrible sweat and look around me in the dark. I can't remember where I am. My nightlight is on the wrong side…Read more Snapshots: L’Aquila by Matilda Colarossi
Via Bolognese Matilda Colarossi Along the winding road that leads out of Florence, towards the luxuriant hills that wrap the city in their tree lined contours, wisteria twines abundant on ancient stone walls. The rampant vine seems to stem from the rocks themselves, and the violet delicateness of the clusters contrasts…Read more Snapshots: Via Bolognese by Matilda Colarossi
International Day for the Elimination of #ViolenceagainstWomen
|BELOW THE BELT
-I’d like to make a withdrawal, please.
The teller looked at the bank-slip I had filled out and then at me.
The minute I saw the look on her face, I felt my knees go weak.
-Hey, Ryan. C’mon. Wake up.
I watched my son pull a cushion over his head, but kept working.
I tore a plastic garbage bag out of the drawer, dumped the leftover cake inside. I wiped down the empty pill bottle, threw it in too, wiped the counter, removed my rubber gloves and walked into the living room.
-I said wake up, sweetie, come on!
I took the cushion off his head, drew him into my arms. His flannel pajamas spilled out from under his overalls. Cuddly bunny ears and bright orange carrots peeping. His ears were sleepy warm against my neck.
-Can I say…
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Il viaggio Di Matilda Colarossi Sedeva sotto la betulla bianca. Non so se riconosceva chi fossi o cosa fosse una betulla. Fissava il lago che si estendeva, piatto e freddo, davanti a lei. Un’alga lunga, imbrunita dal sole, s’avvicinò lenta su un’onda poca decisa. La guardammo insieme. Andò ad appoggiarsi a pochi passi da noi…Read more Snapshots: Il viaggio/The voyage by Matilda Colarossi
Lavender By Matilda Colarossi She shuffles out of the glass doors into the night. A cold draft rides up the back of her hospital gown. She lifts her eyes to the street lamp. Silver streaks of rain make perfect geometrical lines in the halo of light. She moves towards them. Her naked feet embrace…Read more Snapshots: Lavender/Lavanda by Matilda Colarossi
TRA LE RIGHE Di Matilda Colarossi Il cipresso copriva la finestra. Allungava un’ombra enorme sul pavimento del salotto. Era a forma di scopino del water perché mancava la cima. Toglieva la luce e il respiro. Un ramo, verso la metà della pianta, era spezzato. Restava in bilico sugli altri rami da mesi. Neanche il forte…Read more Snapshots: Tra le righe/Between the lines by Matilda Colarossi
Produttore di sogni Di Matilda Colarossi Ogni cosa ha il suo tempo. Anche il respiro deve averlo. Lo controllava. Fissava la parete verde e lo controllava. Un sommozzatore in apnea. Senza mare. Nel verde della sala d’attesa sulla sedia ergonomica accanto ad altri che aspettavano e respiravano come avrebbe voluto fare lei. E i petti…Read more Snapshots: Produttore di sogni/Dream weaver by MatildaColarossi
Il primo giorno Di Matilda Colarossi Cercò di toccare lo schienale del banco davanti al suo con la punta dei piedi, ma non ci riuscì. Fece cadere indietro le gambe e lo spostamento d’aria le dette un po’ di sollievo. Era seduta lì, sola, in fondo alla chiesa ad aspettare da un bel po’. Alzò…Read more Snapshots: Il primo giorno/The first day by Matilda Colarossi
Rejoice By Matilda Colarossi “Well, if God knows everything, why do I have to confess to a priest?” Sister Alma looked up from her work. She couldn't have been more than twenty years older than I was then. In her late twenties, probably, but she looked my age and wasn't much taller. She was a…Read more Snapshots: Rejoice/Gioia by Matilda Colarossi
Il Parrozzo Di Matilda Colarossi Salì in treno e cercò uno scompartimento vuoto. Rifletté un attimo sulla direzione che avrebbe preso e si sedette dando le spalle alla locomotiva, vicino alla finestra. Gli piaceva vedere la città mentre si allontanava. Guardò la stazione e dovette ammettere che era bella. Ventinove anni per costruirla, pensò amareggiato.…Read more Snapshots: Parrozzo cake by Matilda Colarossi
Thin lines by Matilda Colarossi She draws a thin line across her flesh, parallel to the others. The tingling burning sensation, the flow of blood, the pounding of the heart, dull the pain. She moves the razor to her wrist. "Beth... Beth open up! I have to pee." She raises her eyes to the mirror.…Read more Snapshots: Thin lines/Righe sottili by Matilda Colarossi
L'emancipazione Di Matilda Colarossi “Scusa, Beth, ma hai qualcosa tra i denti…” Elisabeth serrò le labbra. Il rossetto si estese, sfuggendo dai bordi delle labbra sottili e quasi raggiungendo la punta del bel nasino rifatto. “Non ti dispiace se te l'ho detto, vero? Sai, è insalata. Io la tolgo sempre dai panini della mensa. Non…Read more Snapshots: Emancipazione/Emancipation by Matilda Colarossi
SHE by Matilda Colarossi Another endless discussion. Dysfunctional, as they all were, and silent departing. From the next room, the words took on a familiar hue. She listened, not listening. They were always the same words. They started with “she” and trailed off into a familiar refrain which would no longer touch her. She heard…Read more Snapshots: She/Lei by Matilda Colarossi
Coral sings songs of love by Matilda Colarossi Coral brushes the nest of red curls away from her face and into a bun at the nape of her neck. The unruly mess is in stark contrast to the order in her head. She has been practicing law since she was 26. She has defended women…Read more Snapshots: Coral sings songs of love/Coral canta canzoni d’amore by Matilda Colarossi
Translation is most of all understanding, but simply reproducing what one understands is not enough. Tradurre è anzitutto comprendere, ma non è poi semplicemente riprodurre quanto si è compreso. Benvenuto Terracini, Il problema della traduzione, 1983 Translation by ©Matilda Colarossi This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Find this and Matilde Colarossi's other short stories on http://www.stanza251.com
Arabella Bertola, writer, teacher, translator, was kind enough to translate this for her.