Translation needed for this story

[scottphillips2]

Hello! I just found this story. It is about my wife's cousin. I know it is long. Can anyone help with translation? Google butchers it.

E` una storia di emigrazione anche questa, seppur la protagonista mai lasciò Vinchiaturo e i suoi passi da bambina e da giovane "vedova bianca" non la portarono oltre Monteverde, la Piana D'Oro e una volta o due a Campobasso. Nasceva, il nove marzo 1929, a Salvatore e Vittoria in una casupola a le Cave.

Il suo arrivo non portò gioia a nessuno: particolarmente alla piccola tribù di fratellastri e sorellastre da un precedente matrimonio finito in tragedia, due volte. Prima, con la morte del fratello di Salvatore, lasciando a lui il "dovere" di occuparsi della vedova e figli, sposandola. Poi morì anche la vedova, lasciando un'altra (si fa per dire) categoria B di figli. Infine il matrimonio con Vittoria, e altri due figli, chiamamoli di categoria C.

Gli anni di infanzia furono anni di fame nera. Ognuno aveva il suo lavoro da svolgere e da tutti si aspettava silenzio e obbedienza. Nonostante tutto fù una brillante alunna, riportando nove e dieci con lode in tutte le materie, sino alla quinta. La prima triste realtà: i maschi studiano, le femmine aspettano chi le sposa. E fù cosi che i maschi fecero carriera, si stabilirono chi a Napoli e chi a Roma, le sorellastre emigrarono per il Canada e USA.

Ma per lei, la piccola, c'erano solo i lavori di casa, e nei campi - ogni giorno si recava a Ru Tellanne col padre per racimolare qualcosa: ortaggi, uova fresche, qualche frutta in stagione, e da alcuni "feloni" di vigneto qualche mezzo bicchiere a tavola. Poi Vittoria si ammalò, morendo di febbre reumatica. A quel punto la zia Filumena e Salvatore ebbero la brillante idea di maritarla in una famiglia di benestanti agricoltori e terrieri di Monteverde.

Non aveva ancora compiuto i suoi diciassette anni!

Il marito, reduce di cinque anni di prigionia in Germania parlava poco, bestemmiava molto, e si svegliava dal sonno in piena notte gridando incomprensibili frasi in tedesco. Di malumore, depresso, pessimista di grande portata, diede il suo seme (che diventò chi scrive) e se ne andò a Tillsonburg, nell'Ontario a raccogliere tabacco per settantacinque cents all'ora, più o meno il prezzo di un litro di vino che si produceva in botti di venti quintali, molte botti. Nella sua nuova "sistemazione" si lavorava dalle cinque del mattino a tarda sera: i suoceri erano buoni ma pretendevano una giornata di lavoro "chjiena, chjena".

Appena il marmocchio comincio` a parlare e leggere, fù precoce, non si parlava di altro che il Canada. L'atto di richiamo, una vita agevolata,con una casetta col prato inglese. E gli leggeva, al marmocchio, traduzioni in lingua italiana di classici inglesi: Uncle Tom's Cabin, David Copperfield, Tom Sawyer. Così sarebbe stato facile, una volta arrivati in Canada, per il marmocchio di inserirsi nelle scuole inglesi.

L'atto di richiamo non arrivò mai, ma la morte si. Il 24 Agosto 1958 emigrò anche lei, non più vedova bianca, ma angelo in cielo.

E il marmocchio andò in Canada, a vivere col padre, taciturno come sempre, preoccupato dei terreni ora che i genitori erano vecchi, e lei scomparsa. Il ciclo di un crudele passato ricominciò: si risposò - per il bene del figlio orfano - si dice.

Dal secondo matrimonio nacque un'altro figlio, Antonio. Antonio Spensieri (1962-1992) morì trentenne, in quello stesso giorno in cui Carolina D'Aquila (1929-1958) anni prima, avrebbe compiuto le sue trenta primavere.

[johnnyonthespot]

Far from perfect, I know, but this is what Google's translator comes up with:

It is also a story of emigration that, although the main character Vincent and never left his feet as a child and a young "white widow" not well brought Monteverde, the Golden Plains, and once or twice in Campobasso. Born, March 9, 1929, to Salvatore and Victoria in a shack in the Cave.

His arrival did not bring joy to anyone, especially the small tribe of brothers and sisters from a previous marriage ended in tragedy, twice. First, with the death of his brother Salvatore, leaving him the "duty" to take care of the widow and children, marrying her. Then the widow died, leaving another (so to speak) category B children. Finally, the marriage to Victoria, and two other children, let's call in category C.

The childhood years were years of hunger black. Each had his work to be done and everyone is waiting for silence and obedience. Despite all was a brilliant student, bringing nine ten honors in all subjects, until the fifth. The first sad reality: the males studied, females who expect the bride. So it was that the males did career, who settled in Naples and who in Rome, the sisters emigrated to Canada and USA.

But for her, the little girl, there were only the housework, and in the field - every day he went with his father in Ru Tellanne to rack up some vegetables, fresh eggs, some fruit in season, and some "felon" of vineyard some half a cup at the table. Then Victory fell ill, dying of rheumatic fever. Then Aunt Filumena and Savior had the brilliant idea to marry into a family of wealthy farmers and landowners of Monteverde.

He had not yet completed his seventeen years!

Her husband, a veteran of five years in prison in Germany said little, cursed a lot, and woke up from sleep at night shouting unintelligible phrases in German. In a bad mood, depressed, pessimistic major, gave his semen (which became the writer) and went in Tillsonburg, Ontario to raise tobacco for seventy-five cents an hour, more or less the price of a liter of wine that was produced in barrels of twenty pounds, many barrels. In his new "system" worked from five in the morning to late evening in-laws were good but demanded a day's work "chjiena, chjena".

`As soon as the kid began to speak and read, it was early, did not speak of other than Canada. The act of calling, a life made easier, with a small house and lawn. And he read, the brat, translations of English classics in Italian: Uncle Tom's Cabin, David Copperfield, Tom Sawyer. So it would be easy, once you are in Canada, for the kid to fit in British schools.

The notice of appeal never came, but the death. On August 24, 1958 she emigrated, no more white widow, but an angel in heaven.

And the kid went to Canada to live with his father, silent as always, concerned about the land now that the parents were old, and she disappeared. The cycle of a cruel past, began again remarried - for the good of the orphaned son - they say.

From the second marriage was born another son, Antonio. Carefree Antonio (1962-1992) died thirty years old, that same day when Caroline D'Aquila (1929-1958) years ago, he made his thirty springs.

[scottphillips2]

Thanks, but as my first note said, Google butchered it.

I was hoping someone here knew Italian.

Scott

[MaryMena]

I have been working on this for a couple of days. I didn't want it to go to waste.

Scott, are you aware that just to the east of Vinchiaturo is a "Masseria Spensieri".
Could this be the farms of Carolina's husband's family still in operation?


This also is a story about immigration, even though the protagonist never left Vinchiaturo and her footsteps as a young girl and “white widow” never took her further than Monteverde, la Piana D’Oro and once or twice to Campobasso. She was born March 9, 1929 to Salvatore and Vittoria in a hut in le Cave.

Her arrival did not bring joy to anyone: particularly to the small clan of stepbrothers and stepsisters from a previous marriage which ended in tragedy, twice. First with the death of Salvatore’s brother, leaving him with the “duty” to take care of the widow and the children, by marrying her. Then, the widow also died, leaving behind (so to say) category B children. Lastly, the marriage with Vittoria, and two other children, lets call them category C.

Her childhood years were years of black hunger. Everyone had their work to do and from everyone was expected silence and obedience. In spite of all this she was a brilliant student, bringing home 9’s and 10’s with praise in every subject, up to grade five. The first sad reality: the boys get an education, the girls wait for someone to marry them. And so the boys got a career, they established themselves, some in Naples and some in Rome, the stepsisters emigrated to Canada and the USA.

But for her, the youngest, there was only housework, and field work -- every day she went to Ru Tellanne with her father to glean anything: vegetables, fresh eggs, or some seasonal fruit. And from some “thieves” of vineyards, maybe half a glass for the table. Then Vittoria fell ill, dying of rheumatic fever. At that point Aunt Filumena and Salvatore had the brilliant idea of marrying her off into a family of well-to-do farmers and land owners in Monteverde.

She hadn’t reached her seventeenth birthday!

The husband, back from five years of prison in Germany spoke little, swore a lot, and woke in the middle of the night screaming incomprehensible phrases in German. In bad humour, depressed, a large scale pessimist , he gave his seed (who became this author) and went to Tillsonburg, Ontario to pick tobacco for seventy-five cents an hour, more or less the price of a litre of wine which was being produced in casks of twenty tons, many casks. In her new “arrangement” she worked from five in the morning till late a night: the in-laws were good people but they expected a “full, full” day of work.

As soon as the child began to speak and read, she thought ahead, they didn’t talk of anything else other than Canada. The sponsorship papers, an easy life, a small house with a manicured lawn. And she read to the child, Italian translations of English classics: Uncle Tom’s Cabin, David Copperfield, Tom Sawyer. So that it would be easy, once they arrived in Canada, for the child to enter English schools.

The sponsorship papers never arrived, but death did. On August 24, 1958, she also emigrated, no more a white widow, but an angel in heaven.

And the child did go to Canada, to live with his father, taciturn as always, preoccupied with the lands now that his parents were old, and she gone. The cycle of a cruel past began anew: he remarried – for the good of his orphan child – so to say.

From the second marriage was born another son, Antonio. Antonio Spensieri (1962-1992) who died at thirty, on the same day in which Carolina D’Aquila (1929-1958) years before would have seen thirty springtimes.

MaryMena

[scottphillips2]

Thank you SO VERY MUCH! What a terrific job!

I thank you deeply!

Scott

[MaryMena]

You're very welcome. Are you willing to share what happened to the author, once in Canada, and his father.

MaryMena