We are working on an illustrated translation of Grazia Deledda’s short story, “Il Cinghialetto.” Today, the woods of Connecticut mirrored the wilderness of Sardegna, where our hero, il Cinghialetto (the little wild boar) is born, and sets off for his journey into the wide world. This American dog, a stand-in for the boar complete with tail curled in curiosity, sniffed a bed of acorns and oak leaves, a moss-covered stone, just as our hero did in his nest, with his mother, in the shade of an oak. 

“…la cinghialessa sgretolò le ultime ghiande rimaste fra il musco, grugnendo per richiamare i piccini; e sei di essi, tutti eguali, col pelo a strisce dorate e morate come nastri di seta, accorsero inseguendosi e saltandosi addosso gli uni su gli altri: il settimo, quello che primo s’era avventurato nel mondo, non tornò.”

“…their mother smashed the last of the acorns that remained hidden in the moss, squealed to call back her babies, and six of them, all the same, with their coats striped in dark and gold, like ribbons of silk, ran back, following and jumping all over each other; the seventh, the one who had ventured first into the world, did not return.”