Italian Black Juice
I turned myself and I leaned on the forehead the sommita one of the crown, transforming to me in one risen of child-spouse who it dragged behind one falled of flowers until earth. Come down on tar leaving me to the shoulders the magical one Hush of the crowd.
Which, after a little thought, I recognised as the following, from 'Singing My Sister Down' ('Cantare per mia sorella che scende giù'):
I turned and propped the top of the wreath on my forehead, so that I was like a little boy bride, trailing a head of flowers down my back to the ground. I set off over the tar, leaving the magic silence in the crowd.
The front flap says, 'Dieci racconti; dieci pozioni. Margo Lanagan ci offre black juice, il succo nero della vita, il distillato di una immaginazione tenebrosa.' The black juice of life, squozen from my tenebrous imagination!
My favourite translated title is 'Il giorno del naso rosso' ('The Day of the Red Nose'), although 'Luce perpetua' and 'Rito di primavera' sound pretty fabulous.
My favourite acknowledgment is to Louis Creagh 'per l'abbraccio alla zampa dell'elefante ('Dolce Pippit')', although 'La famiglia Linstead di Perth per l'espressione "culo in aria" [that would be "bonty"]' comes a close second.
The cover is purple and black, with a graphic of a girl's face—a white girl—well, a purple girl—sinking in what you only know is tar if you've read 'Cantare per mia sorella'.