Senza titolo 386

English/italian/mist fiaba
THE LITTLE Prosperaia

By Metal C. Andersen






Once upon a volta, in a little citè during a terribile winter cold ma che più cold doesn't si poleva...na piccola ciuccerella, without a dignitous cappottin neither a wood shetland hat on the capoccett ... walked in a big street.
She wore a striminzit vestitin a pois and a pair of pantofols..che really se le avesse left under the bed it would be stata the same thing.
Why??? bicòs the pantofòl were so big that pareàn du shippette al largo of the sea coi little feet (six under) che inside sciaqquettaving and siccome that in the frattime two carts (per fortune not armed) crossed the street and the poor bimbètt per non to be acciakked run away and left the pantofòls on the street.
Uàn finitte in un tombèn ave le mice and di oder wasi picked up bay a boy who said:
When I'll be a babbo I'll use this scarpett as culla pour les my niños!Ciàpa chi!
So .. the poor piccolett now walked per la street barefoot (scalza) and the piccoli foot became like a violet in the wood, cioè PURPLE
But...why the poor ciàild stava in the city? simple! because she had a job...she was the match-girl (no, che avete capito? non faceva la pugilessa ma vendeva matches, ovvero fiammiferi)
But that day she didn't sell manc un prospero ( per gli extracomunitari, a Roma Prospero= fiammifero) so in the saccoccett of the vestitèn she hasn't gnanca un cent..but in the little hands she teneva nu mazzett di big matches unseller...she was there at the corner, over the snow tutta rincagnata dal iced wind e avec le tears che colavan down from the little eyes and when arrived on the floor there was little snowballs.
You must know thet was the last day of the year of the cat and cat stevens ...no...sto sforando spetta:)))






it was 31 of december, saint silvester (stallion) and the birthday of my father (aho', mio padre è nato il 31 dicembre e pure a mezzanotte spaccata...mica è colpa mia:))) and from all the addobbed houses and from alla the opened windows there was an odorin di arrosti misti that was so wonderful and so inviting that to the little bimba began to rantol the empty stomachett...sniffa sniffa she realized tha teneva na fame da steppenwolf
end of part uàn...

But she hadn't nemmanco un soldo avec the blac hole and so...siccome she had a big fifa that if her father realized that she hadn'd sold not 8 but gnanca uàn match she would beat the piccolett like an amazzonia's tree... so the pupetta prefererd stay encore in the corner sitting at the dock of the bay ...acc...ho risforato, forgive me...
!Tanto" she said fra she e she..." at home it's cold d'esame or here or there..the song remains the same...and si accucciatte on the snow in the corner...
Tutt' dun tratto...BIG IDEA If I light a match pereps its flame mi scalla nu poco...ando so...sfregghed the match and FLASH! a big quick flame made hot for a second.
she lighted anoder match and WOWWWWWW...the flame illumined the wall and she saw through the window a big stanz wit a table i at the centre...a big table imbandited avec ogni gud of GOD...there was a big duck ingolfed like the poor turkeys of "thanksgiving day", pure avec la apple in the back...







at uàn certain point the big duck zomped down at the floor and wit the fork and the cutter infilzed on his bach began to walk toward the piccolett that remained wid a spalanched mouth while on the plus belle il match smorzed and the dark returned...
and the wall ridivented cold and iced...
another match and another match were flamed and stavolt she saw the most beautiful cristmas' tree she had never seen...WOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
but the match turned off again...so...ogni prospero che eccendette le showed something of very special and marvellous...and fantastic and her eyes brilled like all the stars in the sky.
She remember that her gud nonna once said:
When you see a star falling down there is someone che sta per moring...so she now saw a star falling down abd sai...nonna nonna...Il'll pray you...famme venì da you!!!! plis nonnetta bedda...je ne voje estad mas aqui in this waste land..plis nonnetta bedda...
and while she said these uòrds craing like a spoon river lighted another match and behind the flame she saw a sparkling nonny andi siccome she non voleva that la nonny PUFF scomparisse..she lighted on uàn behind the other the mazzett of matches...
quasi quasi parea l'alba tanta light she done!
The nonny embraced the piccolett and together flyed to the sky contente like two pasques...







now she had no more cold, no more fear no more fame no more sete...entrambes were on a nuvolett near the empireous gold...
the morning appress però, in the citi, at the corner between la 18ma et la 19ma lo spazzin while piched up oll the monnezz found a little body freddo come il mammo of Carrara... and near the corpisin all the matches sbruciakkiaten...
A passante looking at the little bimba said: "she needed to warm up" mat nobody culd sapere all the beautiful things the bimba had seen during the night and that that her gud nonny embraced the little chaild to let her avec sè in the sky.
The end.

A gud giurnè tout vouz