Fic: There's got to be a morning after scene translation
This post contains all of the foreign language lines (Italian & French) in There's got to be a morning after, translated to English.
The first is the Italian dialogue between Eames & Signora Pezzella, his landlady. The scene has been abridged here. To read it in its entirety in Italian, please see here.
Many thanks to Martina for her amazing English to Italian translation assistance.
There's a rap on the door, "Hello, hello? Robin, it's Signora Pezzella. Are you in there?"
Arthur's frowning and on his feet in an instant, shutting the closet (and his laptop) with barely a sound. Eames approaches the entrance to the flat, wary, and checks through the peephole. Through the glass, he can see an elderly Italian woman bearing food in the hallway, alone.
Eames gestures to indicate no danger and mouths, "I know her." He opens the door.
"Robin, it is you!" Signora Pezzella squeals as she barrels through the doorway, holding her large, foil-covered tray aloft. "I thought I saw a ghost, but here you are!"
"Signora Pezzella," Eames says as he accepts the tray. "It has been too long."
"Where have you been?" she demands, speaking in breathless, rapid-fire Italian. "Why have you not called or written? I have been worried sick about you, imagining you dead in the river or worse."
"I had to leave unexpectedly, Signora," he replies. "Work called me away before I had the chance to say goodbye. I have been traveling since we last spoke."
"Traveling? I should have guessed. You have always been a wanderer, never content with where you are. But what are you doing here? A man your age should be at home with his wife, bouncing a baby on his knee," she scolds. "Are you at least engaged by now?"
"How could I marry when I have already found the most beautiful woman in the world?" Eames sinks to one knee and presses a kiss to the back of Signora Pezzella's hand to great effect. "And she refuses me?"
"Oh, Robin." She giggles as she pushes him away by the shoulder, seeming almost girlish in her delight despite graying hair and deep wrinkles. "What awful, sweet lies you tell. I cannot talk to you."
He stands and allows her to pull her hand away, still giggling. "I speak only what I see, madam."
"Such a scoundrel," she says, aflutter. "But you are so thin! Perhaps I was right in thinking I saw a ghost. What have you been eating? No good food, I bet."
"Nothing as good as what you make, Signora," Eames says dutifully.
"Well, my lasagna will fix that. No more of that dreadful boiled chicken you call a meal. If you put that tray in the oven it should warm right up in minutes. And-" she stops, seeming to notice Arthur in the room for the first time. She gives him a brief once-over, then a second, more thorough once-over. "And who is this?"
"My friend, Constantine," Eames replies after Arthur simply stares at them both blankly. Italian is apparently not one of Arthur's languages.
"Ah," she says, and then in halting English, "You American?"
"Yeah, I'm American," Arthur says, seeming relieved to hear something he finally understands. "Hello."
Signora Pezzella turns back to Eames. "He is also unmarried, your friend?"
"Yes," Eames says, already amused by where this is heading.
"I have a niece. Very pretty. Not too smart-always getting herself into trouble-but that's in the past now." She eyes Arthur critically. "He looks like he could handle her."
"That's very kind of you," Eames says, as demurely as he can manage. "But-"
"Or perhaps he is not interested in marriage or children?" she muses, and gives Eames a pointed look. "A man your age is too old to be carrying on with these types of affairs."
"I thank you for your concern," Eames says, an edge of irritation creeping in. "And thank you for the lasagna. Unfortunately, my friend is very tired from the flight."
"My handsome, nest-less Robin." She pinches his cheek, rather more forcefully than he expects. "You are to bring no trouble home here. Do you understand?"
"Of course, Signora."
"Good." She pats his cheek once before withdrawing, giving Arthur a brief nod as she does.
* * * * * *
In the strip club, Federico & the strippers
"Hello, boys," the one with clear seniority and the largest breasts says. "How are you tonight?"
"Doing wonderful now that we've been joined by such beautiful ladies," Federico replies, grinning. "And yourselves?"
"Very good," the leader replies, assessing eyes flicking over Eames and Arthur. "Where are you all from?"
"Naples, England, and America," Federico says, pointing at himself, Eames, and Arthur in turn.
* * * * * *
"That's enough," the leader snaps, grabbing the youngest by the wrist.
* * * * * *
This is the French dialogue between Eames & a sweaty man in Chapter 8.
Many thanks to Anais for her amazing English to French translation assistance.
After a decent blowjob, Eames settles onto the far side of the bed for a good night's rest. That is rudely interrupted by a rather panicked series of whispers and pokes by his companion, "You have to go."
"What?" Eames asks, groggily.
"My wife is coming home a day early. You must leave before she arrives." The man switches to English. "Wife come home."
"Yes, I got that bit," Eames mutters as he squints at the window. It's not yet light out. "Now?"
"Yes."
The first is the Italian dialogue between Eames & Signora Pezzella, his landlady. The scene has been abridged here. To read it in its entirety in Italian, please see here.
Many thanks to Martina for her amazing English to Italian translation assistance.
There's a rap on the door, "Hello, hello? Robin, it's Signora Pezzella. Are you in there?"
Arthur's frowning and on his feet in an instant, shutting the closet (and his laptop) with barely a sound. Eames approaches the entrance to the flat, wary, and checks through the peephole. Through the glass, he can see an elderly Italian woman bearing food in the hallway, alone.
Eames gestures to indicate no danger and mouths, "I know her." He opens the door.
"Robin, it is you!" Signora Pezzella squeals as she barrels through the doorway, holding her large, foil-covered tray aloft. "I thought I saw a ghost, but here you are!"
"Signora Pezzella," Eames says as he accepts the tray. "It has been too long."
"Where have you been?" she demands, speaking in breathless, rapid-fire Italian. "Why have you not called or written? I have been worried sick about you, imagining you dead in the river or worse."
"I had to leave unexpectedly, Signora," he replies. "Work called me away before I had the chance to say goodbye. I have been traveling since we last spoke."
"Traveling? I should have guessed. You have always been a wanderer, never content with where you are. But what are you doing here? A man your age should be at home with his wife, bouncing a baby on his knee," she scolds. "Are you at least engaged by now?"
"How could I marry when I have already found the most beautiful woman in the world?" Eames sinks to one knee and presses a kiss to the back of Signora Pezzella's hand to great effect. "And she refuses me?"
"Oh, Robin." She giggles as she pushes him away by the shoulder, seeming almost girlish in her delight despite graying hair and deep wrinkles. "What awful, sweet lies you tell. I cannot talk to you."
He stands and allows her to pull her hand away, still giggling. "I speak only what I see, madam."
"Such a scoundrel," she says, aflutter. "But you are so thin! Perhaps I was right in thinking I saw a ghost. What have you been eating? No good food, I bet."
"Nothing as good as what you make, Signora," Eames says dutifully.
"Well, my lasagna will fix that. No more of that dreadful boiled chicken you call a meal. If you put that tray in the oven it should warm right up in minutes. And-" she stops, seeming to notice Arthur in the room for the first time. She gives him a brief once-over, then a second, more thorough once-over. "And who is this?"
"My friend, Constantine," Eames replies after Arthur simply stares at them both blankly. Italian is apparently not one of Arthur's languages.
"Ah," she says, and then in halting English, "You American?"
"Yeah, I'm American," Arthur says, seeming relieved to hear something he finally understands. "Hello."
Signora Pezzella turns back to Eames. "He is also unmarried, your friend?"
"Yes," Eames says, already amused by where this is heading.
"I have a niece. Very pretty. Not too smart-always getting herself into trouble-but that's in the past now." She eyes Arthur critically. "He looks like he could handle her."
"That's very kind of you," Eames says, as demurely as he can manage. "But-"
"Or perhaps he is not interested in marriage or children?" she muses, and gives Eames a pointed look. "A man your age is too old to be carrying on with these types of affairs."
"I thank you for your concern," Eames says, an edge of irritation creeping in. "And thank you for the lasagna. Unfortunately, my friend is very tired from the flight."
"My handsome, nest-less Robin." She pinches his cheek, rather more forcefully than he expects. "You are to bring no trouble home here. Do you understand?"
"Of course, Signora."
"Good." She pats his cheek once before withdrawing, giving Arthur a brief nod as she does.
* * * * * *
In the strip club, Federico & the strippers
"Hello, boys," the one with clear seniority and the largest breasts says. "How are you tonight?"
"Doing wonderful now that we've been joined by such beautiful ladies," Federico replies, grinning. "And yourselves?"
"Very good," the leader replies, assessing eyes flicking over Eames and Arthur. "Where are you all from?"
"Naples, England, and America," Federico says, pointing at himself, Eames, and Arthur in turn.
* * * * * *
"That's enough," the leader snaps, grabbing the youngest by the wrist.
* * * * * *
This is the French dialogue between Eames & a sweaty man in Chapter 8.
Many thanks to Anais for her amazing English to French translation assistance.
After a decent blowjob, Eames settles onto the far side of the bed for a good night's rest. That is rudely interrupted by a rather panicked series of whispers and pokes by his companion, "You have to go."
"What?" Eames asks, groggily.
"My wife is coming home a day early. You must leave before she arrives." The man switches to English. "Wife come home."
"Yes, I got that bit," Eames mutters as he squints at the window. It's not yet light out. "Now?"
"Yes."