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Source text in Italian 
 | The winning entry has been announced in this pair.There were 45 entries submitted in this pair during the submission phase, 3 of which were selected by peers to advance to the finals round. The winning entry was determined based on finals round voting by peers.Competition in this pair is now closed. |
Entries (45 total; 3 finalists) — Expand all entries
I don’t know how, but my pupils had found out that it was my birthday that day. I saw them arriving at school wearing their best clothes and bearing gifts. There were those who brought me an elegant pen, others a little missal, a pencil case, others a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I was comforted and saddened by the sight. Comforted because any sign of gratitude or affection from those good children touched my heart and made every sacrifice seem minor. Saddened, because I thought the money those gifts had cost could have been put to better use. Nevertheless, I accepted those cherished demonstrations of love with equanimity. Only one child, the poorest, didn't offer me anything, but his self-conscious demeanour and his sad little face told me how much he was suffering. I called him to me, repeatedly hugged and kissed him. Encouraged by these caresses, the poor little soul placed a small bundle in my hands and ran off embarrassed. Surprised and curious, I opened it without anyone seeing. There were... guess what? ... three lumps of sugar! I called him right back. - Did you know that I like sugar? I asked, smiling. - I thought you would! I like it so much! - And you, I said moved, surely asked your mother and... - No ma'am! he quickly replied, I didn’t ask anybody anything; I saved them myself, on my own.... - But still... - When grandma gives me my coffee with milk, she always puts two or three lumps of sugar in the coffee cup to sweeten it. I took out the sugar... - And the coffee and milk? ... I asked with a lump in my throat. - I drank it unsweetened! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the workshop smoke has blackened your angel face, maybe at this hour you are working in the fields where the crops, the vines are ripening in the sun, perhaps the adventure ships will pick you up where work is so hard and hope so deceptive.... Whoever you are, worker, farmer or man of the sea, your place is amongst the noblest hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, selflessness, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could just for a moment come into my study you would see a lot of paper, many books, many knick-knacks, and you would also see, kept in a small glass bell, three lumps of sugar, a name and a date! | Entry #18359 — Discuss  0 — Variant: British Winner
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Likes (
Dislikes (Somehow, the kids at school had got wind it was my birthday. I saw them show up at school, done up in their party best and clutching little presents. One gave me a very swish pen; others brought me a booklet for mass, a sewing kit and a lovely bunch of fresh flowers. The prospect both heartened and saddened me, heartened because any sign of gratitude or affection shown me by those lads and lasses touched my heart and made my every sacrifice seem trivial, but saddened too, because I felt the expense incurred might have been put to better use. In any event, I accepted these tokens of affection with good grace. There was just one little boy who didn’t give me anything- the least well off – but his sheepish look and glum little face told me how bad he must have been feeling. I called him over, then kept on hugging him and gave him a peck. Encouraged by my cuddles, the poor little lad thrust a little package into my hands and made a bashful escape. Taken aback but intrigued, I opened it so no one would notice. Guess what was there - three little sugar balls! I called him back at once. “Did you know I like sugar?” I asked him with a smile. “I was sure you would! I just love it!” I was touched, but went on “You did ask your Mum and ....?” “No Miss!” he retorted “I didn’t ask anyone anything; I saved them myself, on my ....” “Even so ....” When Nana gives me a cup of coffee with milk in it, she always puts two or three sugar balls in to sweeten it.” I took the sugar out ....” “What about the coffee with milk?” I said, almost choking. “I drank it without!” Oh little Mario, where are you now? Your angelic face might be grimy with factory smoke or maybe you’re working in the fields right now, with the corn turning golden and the grapes ripening in the sun or perhaps you’re on some intrepid voyage where the work is so hard and hopes so hollow. Whatever you are though, factory worker, farmer or mariner, you belong amongst those big-hearted souls who take love to mean sacrifice, generosity and duty. Oh little Mario, if you could come into my study a moment, you would see lots of paper, lots of books and ornaments and - sitting in a little glass bell with a name and date - three little lumps of sugar! | Entry #18401 — Discuss 0 — Variant: British Finalist
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I don’t know how, but my pupils found out which day was my birthday. I saw them coming to school dressed up in their party clothes, holding little gifts in their hands. One gave me a beautiful pen, another brought a missal; there was a pencil case and a lovely bouquet of fresh flowers. I was both cheered and saddened by the sight; cheered because any sign of gratitude or affection from those dear children touched my heart and made any sacrifice of mine seem slight; saddened, because the money needed for those gifts might have been put to more virtuous use. Nonetheless, I gladly welcomed those cherished demonstrations of love. Only the poorest child had no gift for me, but from his embarrassed demeanor and despondent little face, I could tell how he must have suffered. I called him over and when he came close, I hugged him repeatedly and kissed him. Heartened by my affectionate gestures, he placed a little package in my hands and then fled, ashamed. Surprised and curious, I surreptitiously opened it. There were—guess what?—three small lumps of sugar! I called him over to me at once. “Did you know that I like sugar?” I smiled. “I guessed! I like it so much!” “And so,” I prompted, very moved, “you must have asked your mother and…” “No, ma’am,” he broke in, “I didn’t ask anybody for anything; I saved them myself, from my…” “Go on…” “My grandma always puts two or three lumps of sugar in my cup to sweeten my coffee and milk. I took the sugar out”. “And your coffee and milk?” I asked, my throat tightening. “I drank it without…!” Dear little Mario, where are you now? Perhaps the smoke from the workshops has blackened your angelic face; maybe you work where the harvest ripens and turns golden in the sun or, you might have ventured out to sea on a ship, where work is so hard and hope is an illusion…. Whoever you have become—whether factory worker, farmhand or seaman—you belong among those of noble heart for whom love equals sacrifice, selflessness and duty. Dear little Mario; if you could come into my little study for one moment, you would see so many papers, books and knickknacks; you would also see, kept under a little glass bell jar, three small lumps of sugar with a name and a date! | Entry #17258 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified Finalist
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Non-finalist entries
The following entries were not selected by peers to advance to finals-round voting.I don't know how, but in some way my young students had come to know that it was my birthday. I saw them arriving at school dressed in their finest clothes and with gifts in their hands. Some brought me elegant pens or small prayer books, others a pencil case or a bouquet of fresh flowers. I was both moved and saddened by the sight: moved because any sign of gratitude and affection from those lovely children touched my heart and transformed my every sacrifice into joy; saddened as I thought of the hard earned money that could have been put to more noble use. Nevertheless, I graciously accepted each loving token. Only one child, the poorest of the class, brought me nothing: but from his embarrassment and from the expression on his sad little face I understood how terrible he must have felt. I called him to me and when he was near I hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek. Encouraged by this show of affection, the poor little boy handed me a small roll of paper and ran timidly back to his seat. Both surprised and curious, I managed to open it without anyone noticing. And inside... guess what I found!... Three lumps of sugar! I immediately called him back over to me. ”Did you know that I like sugar?” I asked him, smiling. “I figured as much! I like it too!” “And,” I continued, already moved, “you certainly asked your mother and ….” “Oh no ma'am!” he immediately replied, “I didn't ask anyone. I got it all by myself...” ”But...” ”When my grandmother gives me milk and coffee in the morning she always puts two or three lumps of sugar on the saucer to sweeten it. I took the sugar...” ”And the milk and coffee?...” I asked, holding back tears. ”I drank it bitter!” Mario, dear sweet Mario, where are you now? Has your angelic face been clouded over by the soot of factories, or are you at this moment working in the fields as the harvest and the grapes ripen under the sun? Perhaps you're aboard a ship, where the adventures of the sea await you, where the work is hard and hope so deceptive.... But whoever you have become, factory worker, farmer, or sailor, your place is among the noblest of hearts, among those for whom love is sacrifice, abnegation, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could visit me now for a moment in my studio, you would see a lot of papers, piles of books, many trinkets; and you would also see, preserved within a small glass bell, three lumps of sugar, a name, and a date! | Entry #18731 — Discuss 0 — Variant: US
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I don’t know how, but my students found out it was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school in their Sunday best, bearing gifts. One brought me a fancy pen, one a little liturgical book, one a pouch for my work things, one a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I was both comforted and saddened at the sight: comforted because any sign of gratitude or affection coming from those good kids tugged at my heartstrings and made every sacrifice seem easy; saddened because I thought the money it took to buy them could have been put to far better use. In any case, I calmly accepted those precious demonstrations of their love. Only one boy, the poorest of them, didn’t give me anything. But from his embarrassed demeanor and his gloomy expression I could tell how much he was hurting. I called him over, and when I had him close I hugged him again and again and kissed him. Encouraged by my caresses, the poor boy gave me something rolled up and shyly scampered away. Surprised and curious, I opened it so that no one could notice. There were…guess what! Three little lumps of sugar! I called him back right away. “Did you know that I like sugar?” I asked him, smiling. “I thought so! I really like it too!” “And you certainly,” I said emotionally, “asked your mother for it and...” “No, ma’am,” he answered straight away, “I didn’t ask anybody for anything; I kept it for you myself, from my…” “But still…” “My grandmother, when she makes my coffee and milk, always sweetens it with two or three lumps of sugar in my cup. I took the sugar…” “And the coffee and milk?” …I asked, my throat tightening. “I drank it plain!” Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe workshop smoke has blackened your angelic face, maybe you’re toiling now in fields where crops turn gold and vines ripen in the sun, or maybe you’re on adventurous ships, where the work is so hard and hope so misleading… But whoever you are -- worker, farmer, or sailor -- your place is among the noble-hearted, for whom love is a sacrifice, and self-denial a duty. Mario, little Mario, if only for a moment you could come into my office, you’d see many papers, books, and trinkets. And you’d also see, preserved in a small glass jar, three bits of sugar, a name, and a date! | Entry #20569 — Discuss 0 — Variant: US
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I don't know how, but my small pupils had come to know that it was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school dressed in their party clothes and each holding a small present. One of them gave me an elegant pen, another a mass book, one a work case, another a lovely bunch of fresh flowers. I was comforted and saddened by that visit: comforted because any sign of gratitude or affection shown by those sweet children touched my heart and made any sacrifice of mine seem lighter: saddened, because I thought the money used for those purchases could have been put to better use. In any case, I happily accepted those kind expressions of love. Only one child, the poorest, had nothing to offer me: but from his embarassed manner and his sad little face I realized how much he must be suffering. I called him and when he came to me I hugged him to me several times, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor little fellow put a small parcel into my hands and ran off bashfully. Surprised and curious, I opened it without anyone noticing. In it were... guess! ... Three little balls of sugar! I immediately called him back. --Did you know I liked sugar? I asked him smiling. --I worked it out! I like it a lot too! -- And you, I continued, touched by this, you must have asked your mother, of course, and ... --No Ma'am! he quickly replied, I didn't ask anyone for anything; I saved it myself, from my.... --But even so.... --My grandma, when she gives me coffee and milk, always puts two or three little balls of sugar in the bowl to sweeten it. I took the sugar out.... --And the coffee and milk?.... I asked with a lump in my throat. --I drank it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the smoke in the workshops has blackened your angelic face, perhaps you are now working in the fields where crops are turning golden and vines are ripening in the sun, perhaps they have taken you aboard adventurous ships where work is hard, where hope indeed is hollow.... But whoever you are, whether laborer, farmer or man of the sea, your place is among the worthy hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, abnegation, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could come for just a moment into my small study room, you would see a lot of papers, many books, many trinkets; and you would also see, kept safe in a small glass jar, three little pieces of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #21314 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don’t know how they did it but somehow all of my young pupils had managed to find out that it was my birthday that day. So, I saw them arrive at school dressed in their Sunday best, each clutching a small present. One had brought me an elegant pen, another a missal, yet another a work box and another one still had brought me a beautiful bunch of fresh flowers. I was both comforted and saddened by the sight of these: comforted because any sign of gratitude or affection that came to me from those dear youngsters moved me and made any sacrifice seem light; and saddened, because I thought that the money spent on making these purchases could have been put to a nobler purpose. Nonetheless, I quietly accepted these dear tokens of affection. Only one child, the poorest one, had offered me nothing: but I could tell from his embarrassed manner and unhappy little face just how much he must have been suffering. I called him over and when he came near to me I repeatedly hugged and kissed him. Encouraged by these tokens of my affection, the poor little boy placed a small bundle in my hands and ran off bashfully. Surprised and intrigued, I opened it without anyone else being able to see what I was doing. There were......(guess what!)..... three small lumps of sugar! I quickly called him back over to me. --“You knew that I like sugar, didn’t you?” I quizzed him smilingly. --“I worked that out on my own! I like it so much myself!” --“And you”, I started up again, “you must have asked your mother and....” --“No ma’am!” he swiftly replied, “I didn’t ask anyone for anything; I decided to keep them for you....on my own.” --“But surely....” --“When my grandmother gives me milky coffee, she always puts two or three small lumps of sugar in my cup to sweeten it” “I took the sugar out .....” --“And the latte?” I asked with a lump in my throat. --“I drank it without sugar!” Mario, little Mario, where are you now? Perhaps by now workshop smoke will have blackened your angelic little face, perhaps you will be working in fields full of ripening wheat and grape vines maturing in the sun, or perhaps you may have ventured to sea where the work is truly hard and hope is ever so fickle.... But whatever you may be, be you a workman, a farmer or a seaman, your place is with the noble at heart, for whom love is self-sacrifice, abnegation and duty. Mario, young Mario, if for but one minute you could only come into my small study, you would see many papers, books and trinkets; and you would also see, kept under a small glass bell, three small pieces of sugar, together with a name and a date! | Entry #16852 — Discuss 0 — Variant: British
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I don’t know how, but my young pupils had discovered that it was my birthday that day. I watched them arrive at school dressed in their party best, small gifts clasped in their hands. One brought me an elegant pen, another a small missal, one a work-case, another a lovely bunch of fresh flowers. I felt both comforted and saddened by what I saw: comforted, because any sign of gratitude or affection shown me by those good children touched my heart and lightened the weight of each sacrifice I had made; saddened, as I pondered how the money they had spent on my gifts could have been so more valuably used. I, nonetheless, graciously accepted these demonstrations of their love. Only one child, the poorest, handed me no gift: from his embarrassed demeanour and sad little face, however, I imagined how much this pained him. I called him to my side and hugged him repeatedly, kissing him. Encouraged by my embraces, the poor little thing placed a small parcel in my hands and then fled, ashamed. Feeling both surprised and curious, I opened the parcel while no-one was looking. Lying there were .... imagine!.. three little cubes of sugar! I called him back to me immediately. “Did you know that I like sugar?” I asked him, smiling. “I guessed you did! I love it myself!” “And”, I continued, moved, “I'm sure that you asked your mother and ...” “No Miss!”, he replied promptly, “I didn’t ask anybody for anything; I saved it myself, from my...” “But still...” “My granny always pops two or three sugar cubes into my mug of coffee and milk to sweeten it. I fished out the sugar...” “And your coffee?”, I asked, my throat tight. “I drank it unsugared!” Mario, little Mario, where are you? Perhaps your angelic face has been blackened by the smoke of workshops; maybe you are, at this hour, working the fields in which the harvest ripens and the vines mature in the sun; or perhaps you are sailing the adventurous seas, where life is hard and hope deceives ... But, whoever you are - factory-worker, farmer or man of the sea – your place lies amongst those of noble heart, for whom love entails sacrifice, selflessness, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could, for a moment, enter my study, you would see numerous maps, books and knick-knacks; but you would also see, displayed in a small bell-jar, three little pieces of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #20326 — Discuss 0 — Variant: UK
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I don't know how it happened, but my students found out it was my birthday. I saw each of them arrive at school in their party clothes, a little gift held in their hands. One brought me an elegant pen, another a prayer book, another a pencil case, and another a lovely bunch of fresh flowers. This sight both comforted and saddened me: comforted me because any sign of gratitude or affection I received from those good-hearted children touched my heart, and made all my sacrifices seem light; saddened me because I thought the money spent on these purchases could have been put to more noble uses. In any case, I calmly accepted these sweet manifestations of affection. Only one boy, the poorest of them all, had nothing to offer. But his sheepish behavior and sad little face showed how much he was suffering for it. I called him over, and as soon as approached me I took him in my arms and hugged and kissed him, over and over. Emboldened by my embraces, the poor little thing pushed a small bundle into my hands and fled in shame. Surprised and curious, not knowing what to expect, I opened it. It was ... guess! Three lumps of sugar! I called him right back over to me. “How did you know I liked sugar?” I asked with a smile. “I figured it out! I love it so much!” Moved, I asked him, “Are you sure you asked your mama and ...” “No ma'am!” he instantly replied, “I didn't ask anyone for anything, I did it myself, all by myself ...” “But surely ...” “When my grandma gives me coffee and milk, she always gives me two or three lumps of sugar to sweeten it. I took the sugar ...” “And the coffee and milk?” I asked, with a lump in my throat. “I drank it black!” Mario, little Mario – where have you gone? Perhaps smoke-filled offices have blackened your angelic face, perhaps at this very moment you are working in fields where the harvest is turning gold, and vines are ripening under the sun; perhaps you have been welcomed onto adventuring ships, where the work is hard and hope so deceptive.... But whoever you may be – worker, farmer, or sailor – your place is with those who are noble of heart, for whom love is sacrifice, abnegation, duty. Mario, little Mario – if for one moment you could come into my little study, you would see many papers, many books, many trinkets, and you would also see – safely kept in a little bell jar – three pieces of sugar, a name, and a date! | Entry #16375 — Discuss 0 — Variant: US
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I don't know how, but my schoolchildren had found out that day was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school in their party clothes and holding presents in their hands. One brought me a fancy pen, another a prayer book, another a sewing kit, another a nice bouquet of fresh flowers. I felt both relieved and saddened by the sight: relieved because any sign of gratitude or affection coming from those good little children touched my heart and made all the sacrifices worth it; saddened because I thought that the money spent on those presents could have gone to a more worthy cause. In any case, I graciously accepted their thoughtful displays of love. One boy - the poorest one - didn't give me anything, but from his embarrassed demeanor and melancholy expression I gathered how much he must be suffering. I called him over and when he came close, I kissed and hugged him tight several times. Encouraged by my embrace, the poor thing put a little packet in my hands and bashfully ran away. Surprised and curious, I opened it without letting anyone see. There were... guess!... Three lumps of sugar! I called him over again right away. -- "You knew I liked sugar?" I asked him, smiling. -- "I thought so! I like it a lot!" -- I was getting emotional. "And so you asked your mom to..." -- "No ma'am!" he answered right away. "I didn't ask anybody for anything; I saved it all by myself..." -- "Well look at that..." -- "When grandma gives me coffee and milk, she always puts two or three lumps of sugar in the cup to sweeten it. I took out the sugar..." -- "And the coffee and milk?..." I asked, as my throat started to tighten up. -- "I drank it bitter!" Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smoke from the factory has blackened your angelic face, maybe you now work in the fields where the crops blossom and the grapevines ripen in the sun, maybe you find yourself on the adventurous ships where work is so hard and hope is so misleading... But whoever you are now, a factory worker, a farmer, or a sailor, you belong among the noblest of hearts, those for whom love is sacrifice, selflessness, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could come into my office for a moment, you would see a lot of papers, a lot of books, a lot of trinkets; and you would also see, saved in a little glass bell jar, three pieces of sugar, a name, and a date! | Entry #19633 — Discuss 0 — Variant: US
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I don't know how, but my little pupils had found out that it was my birthday. So there they were, all coming to school in their good clothes and with a present in their hands. One had an elegant pen, another a tiny missal, one had a sewing kit, another a nice bunch of fresh flowers. At that sight, I felt consoled and saddened at the same time. Consoled, because any sign of gratitude or love from those good children touched my heart and relieved the burden of all the sacrifices made; saddened, because I thought that the money used to buy those things could have been spent for better purposes. However, I welcomed those tender displays of love serenely. Only one child, the poorest of all, hadn't brought me anything. But I could guess, from his embarrassed attitude and the melancholic expression on his face, the pain he was feeling. I called him, and as he came close I hugged him again and again, and kissed him. Encouraged by the cuddles, the poor thing stuck a small wrap into my hands and darted shyly away. Surprised and intrigued, I unwrapped it when no one was seeing. There were.... guess what? Three sugar cubes! I called him again at once. --How did you know that I like sugar?-- I asked him, smiling. --I figured it out! I like it so much myself! --So-- I replied, moved --you asked your mum for some, and... --No, ma'am!-- he promptly replied --I asked for nothing to no-one, I put it aside for you, on my own... --But... --When grandma gives me my milk and coffee, she always puts two or three sugar cubes in the saucer, to sweeten it. I took the sugar... --And your milk and coffee?...-- I asked, almost swallowing my tears. --I had it without! Mario, little Mario, where are you now? Maybe the smoke of workshops has blackened your angel face, maybe you are toiling in the fields where the wheat grows yellow and the grapes ripen in the sun. Or maybe you have boarded adventurous ships where the work is so hard and the hope so deceptive... But whoever you are, worker, farmer or sailor, your place is among the noble at heart, those for whom love is sacrifice, devotion, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could enter my office room for a moment, you'd see piles of paper, books, trinkets everywhere. And you would also see, treasured under a glass jar, three sugar cubes, a name and a date! | Entry #15560 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don't know how, but my little students found out that my birthday was on that day. I saw them coming to school dressed in their holiday outfits and with a little present in their hands. One brought me an elegant pen, another a booklet for mass, another a pencil case, and another a nice bouquet of fresh flowers. I was consoled and saddened by that sight: consoled because any sign of gratitude or affection coming from those good children touched my heart and made any sacrifice of mine seem small; saddened because I thought how the money required for those purchases could have been used for a more noble purpose. Either way, I happily accepted those dear demonstrations of their love. Only one child, the poorest, didn't have anything to offer: but from his embarrassed demeanor and by his sad little face I could tell how much he must have been suffering. I called him and when he was close to me I held him at length in my arms, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor child placed a small bundle in my hands and ran away, ashamed. Surprised and curious, I opened it without letting anyone else notice. Inside there were... try to guess ... three lumps of sugar! I called him back right away. -- Did you know I like sugar? I asked him, smiling. -- I figured you did! I like it a lot too! -- And you, I replied, moved, you certainly asked your mommy and... -- No ma'am! He replied promptly, I didn't ask anyone for anything; I saved it myself, of my... -- But even... -- My grandma, when she gives me coffee and milk, always puts puts two or three lumps of sugar in the cup to sweeten it. I took the sugar out.... -- And the coffee and milk? ... I asked, unable to swallow. -- I drank it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the factory smoke darkened your angel face, maybe now you're working in the fields where the harvest is yellow and ripe, or in the sun, the vineyard, maybe adventurous ships welcome you where work is so difficult, hope so deceptive... But whoever you are - workman, farmer or seaman - your place is among the noble hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, selflessness, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you, for a moment, could enter into my study, you would see many papers, many books, many knick-knacks; and you would also see, kept in a small glass bell, three lumps of sugar, a name and a date! | Entry #18188 — Discuss 0 — Variant: US
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I don’t know quite how, but my little scholars had found out that it was my birthday. I saw them arriving at school in party attire bearing gifts in their hands. One child brought me a stylish pen, another child a missal; one a work bag and another a lovely bunch of freshly-picked flowers. I was both heartened and saddened by what I beheld. Heartened because any sign of gratitude or affection that I received from these dear children touched my heart and made every sacrifice seem of no import; saddened because I thought that the money could have been used more wisely. In any case, I calmly accepted these kind demonstrations of affection. Just one child, the poorest among them, had nothing to offer me, but from his awkward demeanour and his wistful little face I could see how much he must be suffering. I called him, and when he came up to me I hugged him in my arms again and again and kissed him. Encouraged by these signs of affection, the poor little lad placed a small bundle in my hands and ran off in embarrassment. Surprised and intrigued, I opened it without anyone noticing. It was … guess what! Three little lumps of sugar! I called him over to me at once. - “Did you know I had a sweet tooth?” I asked him, smiling. - “I guessed! I like sugar so much myself!” - “And you,” I continued with some emotion “asked your mum for…” - “No, Miss,” he quickly replied, “I didn’t ask anyone for anything. I kept them myself, from my…” - “But of course…” - “When my granny gives me coffee and milk, she always puts two or three little lumps of sugar in the cup to sweeten it, I took the sugar away…” - “And the coffee and milk?” I asked, with a lump in my throat. - “I drank it bitter!" Mario, little Mario, where are you now? Perhaps the smoke from the factories will have blackened your angelic face; perhaps you are working in the fields where the harvest is turning to gold and the vines are ripening under the sun; maybe you will be boarding ship to adventures where the work is so hard, and hope such a deceiver… But whatever you are, working in a factory, on a farm or at sea, your place lies among the most noble of hearts, for whom love is a sacrifice, a denial, a duty. Mario, little Mario, if for just one moment you were to enter my little study, you would see many cards, many books, many little ornaments; and you would also see, carefully tucked away in a small glass bell jar, three lumps of sugar, a name and a date! | Entry #18917 — Discuss 0 — Variant: UK
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I had no idea how my pupils had discovered it was my birthday on that day. I watched them arrive at school clad in party attire clutching small presents in their hands. One had brought me a rather stylish pen, one a small missal, another a sewing case, and yet another a beautiful bunch of fresh flowers. I was moved and saddened by what I saw. Moved because these displays of gratitude and affection from my dear children touched my heart and deemed all my efforts worthwhile yet saddened when I thought of the money that had been spent on these gifts which could have been put to better use. Whatever the case, I quiescently accepted these fond tokens of their love. Only one child, the poorest, had given me nothing. However, from the way he suppressed his embarrassment and his melancholic expression I could gauge how much he was suffering. I called him over and as he came near to me I repeatedly hugged and kissed him. Emboldened by my embraces, this poor little boy placed a small package in my hands and humbly retreated to his place. Surprised yet curious I surreptitiously opened it. Guess what was inside! Three lumps of sugar! I immediately called him back over to me. --’How did you know I loved sugar?’ I asked him with a smile on my face. --’I worked it out! Because I really love it too!’ --’And you are sure you asked your mummy and…....’, I replied feeling very moved. --’No Miss!’ he replied immediately ‘I didn’t ask anyone. I saved them myself, from my....’ --‘Are you sure....?’ --’Yes, when my granny gives me milky coffee, she always puts two or three lumps of sugar in the cup to sweeten it and I managed to salvage it....’ --’And your milky coffee?’ I asked with a lump in my throat. --’I drank it without sugar!’ Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smoke of the factory workshop has blackened your angelic face; perhaps you are now working in the fields where the crops are turning yellow and the vines are ripening under the sun or maybe you are on a merchant ship where the work is hard and hope is elusive.... Yet whatever you are, a labourer, a farmhand or a seaman, you belong to the blessed in heart, those for whom love means sacrifice, self-denial and duty. Mario, little Mario, were you to come into my small study you would see lots of papers, books and knick-knacks and amongst them, you would also see, stowed away under a small glass bell, three lumps of sugar with a name and a date! | Entry #17176 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I’m not sure how, but my little pupils found out that it was my birthday that day. I saw them coming to school dressed for a party, each with a small gift in his or her hands. One of them gave me a beautiful pen, another a mass book, one of them a pencil case and yet another, a lovely bunch of fresh flowers. I felt comforted yet saddened by that sight: comforted because any token of gratitude or affection from those dear children touched my heart and made me feel that any sacrifice I made would be small; saddened because the money for those purchases could have been used for a more worthy cause. In any case, I accepted those tokens of love willingly. Only one child, the poorest one, gave me nothing, but from his embarrassed behavior and melancholy face I got an idea of how much he must be suffering. I called him to me and when he was close I hugged him again and again, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor child put a small bundle in my hands and ran away, shamefaced. Surprised and curious, I opened it hidden from view. There were… just guess! … three lumps of sugar. I called him to my side straight away. --You knew I like sugar? I asked him smiling. --That’s what I thought! I love it myself! --And you, I went on, moved, of course you asked Mamma and … --No ma’am! he answered straight away, I didn’t ask anyone; I put it aside myself, on my own … --But how … --When grandma gives me coffee and milk, she always puts two or three lumps of sugar in the cup to sweeten it. I took out the sugar … And your coffee and milk? … I asked with a catch in my throat. --I drank it unsweetened! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the factory smoke has blackened your angel face, or maybe, right now, you are working in fields where crops grow golden and grapes ripen in the sun, or maybe you are on adventurous ships where the work is hard and hope is an illusion … But whatever you are, factory worker, farmer, or sailor, your have a place among noble hearts, for whom love means sacrifice, self-denial, and duty. Mario, little Mario, if for a moment you could come into my study, you would see a piles of paper, lots of books and many knick knacks. And you would also see, under a small glass bell, three pieces of sugar, a name and a date! | Entry #19243 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don’t know how, but my young pupils had found out that it was my birthday that day. I saw them coming to school in their Sunday dresses with small presents in their hands. Some had brought a stylish pen, some a church booklet, some a pencil case, others a nice bunch of fresh flowers. I was comforted and saddened by that view: comforted because every gesture of gratitude or affection coming from those good lads touched my heart and made every sacrifice seem trivial: saddened because I thought that the money that went into those purchases, could have had more noble uses. In any case, I accepted those sweet displays of love with an unperturbed face. Only one child, the poorest, didn't offer me anything: but from his embarrassed demeanour and his sad little face, I gathered he was suffering. I called him over and when he was close to me, I hugged him repeatedly, kissing him. Encouraged by those cuddles, the poor little one placed a small bundle in my hands and ran away shame-faced. Surprised and intrigued, I opened it without anyone noticing it. Inside… guess what! ... Three small sugar balls! I immediately called him over again. --Did you know I like sugar? I asked him smiling. --I thought so! I like it very much! -- I am sure you asked you mother…right? I said, moved by him. -- No ma’am! He promptly answered, I didn't ask anything to anybody; I saved it for you, on my own… -- But still… --When Grandma gives me coffee and milk, she always puts two or three sugar cubes into the cup, to sweeten the coffee. I took the sugar out… -- What about the coffee with milk? ... I asked with a knot in my throat. -- I drank it without sugar! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the smoke from the factories has blackened your beautiful face, perhaps you’re working in the fields where crops turn golden and grapes ripen in the sun, or perhaps you will be welcomed on board of ships heading toward adventures, where work is truly hard and hopes are in vain… But no matter whom you are, worker, farmer or sailor, your place is among the noble hearts, among those who treat love as a sacrifice and self-denial as a duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could come, for just a moment, into my small studio, you would see many letters, many books, many ornaments; but you would also see three tiny pieces of sugar kept in a small glass bell, a name and a date! | Entry #20785 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified Великобритания
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I do not know how, but by some means or other my young scholars had learned that it was my birthday and arrived in class dressed in their Sunday best, carrying a little something in their hands. One gave me an elegant pen; another a diminutive prayer book; while still another brought a pencil case; and yet another handed me a lovely bunch of flowers. The sight comforted and saddened me in equal measure: any act of gratitude or affection from those good children touched me deeply and made any sacrifice endurable. But I was sad thinking of the monies spent for those purchases and how they could have been put to better use. However, I calmly received their winsome displays of affection. Only one child, the poorest of them all, refrained from offering me a gift; but on seeing his embarassement and his sad little face, his suffering was only too evident. I called him and when he came nearer I put my arms around him and kissed him many a time. Emboldened by my caresses, the poor little mite deposited a tiny packet on my hand and ran away blushing. Curious and bewildered I secretly opened the packet and found ... three small sugar cubes! I immediately beckoned to him. - Did you know that I like sugar? I asked with a smile. - I guessed as much! I like it too! - And you – I asked again with a trembling voice – did you ask mum for some ... - No Miss! – he promptly exclaimed – I asked nothing of noone: I stashed my sugar for you ... - And yet ... - Grandma, when she pours my milk and coffe, adds two or three sugar cubes in the cup. I removed the sugar ... - And your milk and coffee? – I asked with a lump in my throat. - I had it without sugar! Where are you dearest Mario? Maybe the factory smoke has blackened your sweet face; or maybe you work the fields where the wheat grows golden and the sun ripens the vine; or you toil on perilous vessels, where life is hard and hope is illusory ... But whatever you have become, skilled worker, farmer or seaman, your place is amongst the pure of heart, who know that love is sacrifice, abnegation, duty. Mario, my dear, if you could, just for a moment, see my little study, you would find papers and books in quantity, and many trinkets; but you would also see three sugar cubes in a glass jar, bearing a name, and a date. | Entry #17947 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don't know how, but my little schoolchildren had found out that that day was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school in their Sunday best with small gifts in their hands. One brought me an elegant pen, another a small missal, another a case for keeping work-related items in, another a pretty bouquet of fresh flowers. I was consoled and saddened by that sight: consoled because any sign of gratitude or affection that came to me from those good children touched my heart and made every sacrifice seem slight to me: saddened, since I thought that the money spent on those purchases could have been put to a more noble use. At any rate, I impartially accepted those precious displays of love. One child only, the poorest, did not offer me anything: but from his awkward behavior and from his sad little face I deduced how much he had to be suffering. I called to him and when he was close to me, I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him, and squeezed him again and again. Encouraged by that show of affection, the poor thing placed a small parcel in my hands and ran away, embarrassed. Surprised and intrigued, I opened it without anyone being able to notice. Inside there were ... guess! ...three little lumps of sugar! I immediately called him back to me. "So you knew I liked sugar?" I asked him with a smile. "I figured you would! I like it a whole bunch!" "And certainly, " I continued, touched, "you asked your mommy for it and ..." "No mam!" he replied promptly, "I didn't ask anybody for anything; I saved it for you all on my own, from my..." "But still..." "My grandma, when she gives me my coffee with steamed milk, she always puts two or three little lumps of sugar in the coffee cup to sweeten it. I took the sugar out..." "And your coffee?" I asked with a lump in my throat. "I drank it unsweetened!" Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smoke from the workshop has blackened your angel face, perhaps at this hour you are working in the fields where the vineyard's harvest is turning golden and ripening in the sun, perhaps you are aboard one of those adventuresome ships where work is so hard and hope is so false... But whoever you are, worker, farmer or man of the sea, your place is among noble hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, self-denial, duty. Mario, little Mario, if for a moment you could enter my little study, you would see many papers, many books, many knickknacks; and you would also see, protected under a little bell jar, three bits of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #20251 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I have no idea how my little scholars got to know that it was my birthday that day. I saw them arrive with their best clothes on and a small gift in their hands. Someone brought an elegant pen, another a little mass book, another a pouch for work, still another a fine bouquet of fresh flowers. I was both touched and saddened by the sight: touched because every sign of gratitude or of affection that these dear little children showed me went straight to my heart and made every sacrifice I made, appear small; saddened because I thought the money required for those purchases could have been put to better use. Anyway, I gladly received those dear demonstrations of love. Only one boy, the poorest, did not offer me anything, but his embarrassed demeanour and little, sad face showed me how much he must have been suffering. I called him, and when he came near me, I hugged him repeatedly in my arms and kissed him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor soul put a little roll in my hands and ran away in shame. Surprised and curious, I opened it without letting anybody notice. There were....guess!...Three sugar cubes! I quickly called him back. - You knew I liked sugar? - I figured it out for myself! I like it so much! - And you, I continued, moved, must have certainly asked mum and... - No, Ma’am, he immediately answered, I asked nobody for anything; I saved it myself, from my... - But still... - Granny always puts two or three cubes of sugar when she gives me coffee and milk, to make it sweeter. I took away the sugar... - And the coffee and milk?..I asked him with a lump in my throat. - I took it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the smoke in the little office might have charred your little angel face, maybe, now you work in the fields, where the harvest is turning golden, and the vine is maturing in the sun, or maybe the adventurous ships where work is so hard, beckon; hope is so misleading... But, whatever you are, labourer, farmer or seaman, your place is among the noble-hearted, for whom love means sacrifice, renunciation, duty.... Mario, little Mario, if you were to enter my little study, you would see many papers, many books, many trinkets; and you would also see three sugar cubes with a name and a date, safely kept in a little glass bell-jar. | Entry #18367 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don't know how, but my pupils had found out that it was my birthday that day. I saw them arrive at school dressed in Sunday best and a present in their hands. Someone brought me an elegant pen, another a pocket book for mass, another a pencil case, another a beautiful bunch of fresh flowers. I was touched yet saddened at the sight: touched because any sign of gratitude or affection that those good children showed me touched my heart and made all my sacrifices seem worthwile: saddened, as I thought that the money necessary for those purchases could have been put to better use. In any case, I was able to gather up those dear demonstrations of love with serenity. Only one child, the poorest, was unable to offer anything: but from his embarrassed countenance and from his small sorrowful face I guessed how much he must have been suffering. I called him over and when I had him close to me I hugged him repeatedly in my arms, kissing him. Encouraged by these caresses, the poor boy put a rolled up packet in my hands and escaped embarrassed. Surprised and curious, I opened it without anyone noticing. There were.... guess what! Three chips of sugar. I called him back to me straight away. --Did you know that I like sugar? I asked him smiling. --I thought as much! I like it a lot! --And you, I began again feeling moved, you did ask your mother and.... --No Ma’am! He replied swiftly, I didn't ask anything to anyone; I saved them up by all by myself, from my …. --but even so.... --My Grandma, when she gives my milk and coffee, she always puts two or three sugar chips in my cup to sweeten it. I took out the sugar.... --And the milk and coffee?... I asked, choked. --I drank it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the fatory smoke will have blackened your angelic face, possibly now you'll be working the fields where the harvest turns blond and, under the sun, the vines mature, maybe you will be welcomed on board adventurous ships where the work is so hard, hope is so illusory.... But whoever you may be, factory worker, field laborer or man of the sea, your place is amongst the noble hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, self denial, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you for a moment could enter into my small studio room, you would see much paper, many books, lots of trinkets; you would also see, safeguarded under a small glass dome, three pieces of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #15983 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I do not know by what means, but my little scholars had come to know that today was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school in party clothes with a gift in their hands. One brought me elegant pen, one a little mass book, one a writing case for work, one a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I was comforted and saddened by the sight: I was comforted because any sign of gratitude or affection that came from those good children touched my heart and made every sacrifice seem small: saddened, because I thought that the money used for those purchases, could be put to better use. In any case, I serenely accepted those precious demonstrations of love. Only one child, the poorest, didn't offer me anything: but from his embarrassed expression and his sad little face I could see how much he must have been suffering. I called him over and when he got near me, I hugged him repeatedly in my arms, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor boy gave me a bundle in his hands and ran away self-consciously. Surprised and curious, I opened it so that no one could see. There were.... guess what!.. Three little balls of sugar! I called him back to me immediately. --Did you know that I like sugar? I asked him smiling. --I thought so! I like it a lot! --And you, I stressed, moved, you asked your mother of course and.... --No ma'am! he replied promptly, I didn't ask anybody for anything; I saved it all for you myself, from my.... --But still.... --My grandmother, when she gives me coffee and milk, she always puts two or three little balls of sugar in my cup to sweeten it. I took out the sugar.... --And the coffee and milk?...I asked with a tight throat. --I drank it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the smoke from the workshops has blackened your angelic face, maybe you're working in the fields right now where the crops ripen and mature, in the sun, the grapevines, perhaps the adventuring ships will welcome you where the work is so hard, hope is illusory.... But whoever you may be, worker, farmer or seaman, your place is among the noble hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, selflessness, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could enter my study for a moment, you would see many cards, many books, many trinkets; and you would also see, kept in a little glass bell, three lumps of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #19910 — Discuss 0 — Variant: US
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I don't know how, but my pupils came to find out that that day was my birthday. I saw them arriving at school, each dressed in their best and carrying a little present. One gave me a stylish pen, another a little missal, one a case for my papers, another a big bouquet of fresh flowers. I was comforted and saddened on seeing this. Comforted, because whatever gesture of gratitude or affection that I sensed coming from these dear children touched by heart and made me think that each sacrifice was light. Saddened, because I thought that the money used to purchase these gifts could have been destined for a more noble cause. In any case, I calmly accepted these sweet demonstrations of love. Just one child, the poorest of all, gave me nothing; but from his embarrassed demeanour and expression of melancholy, I deduced just how much he must have been suffering. I called out to him and when he came closer to me, I hugged him repeatedly, kissing him. Encouraged by these caresses, the poor thing placed a little parcel in my hands, becoming shy. Surprised and curious, l opened it without anyone noticing. Inside there were... guess! Three tiny pieces of sugar! I immediately called him back to me. “Did you know that I like sugar?” I asked him, smiling. “I thought so! I like it very much myself!” “And you,” I continued, touched, “most certainly asked your mother and...” “No, Miss!” he quickly responded, “I didn't ask anyone for anything; I saved them myself, from my...” “But…” “When my grandmother serves me coffee with milk, she always puts two or three tiny pieces of sugar in the cup to sweeten it. I took out the sugar...” “And the coffee with milk…?” I asked, my throat tight. “I drank it bitter!” Mario, dear little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the smoke of the factory will have blackened your face of an angel… Or perhaps now, you will be working in the fields where the corn turns golden and the vine ripens under the sun… Or perhaps even the adventurous ships may have taken you on board, where the work is so hard, and hope so lacking.... But whatever it is you may be – worker, farmer or seafarer, your post is among those noble hearts for whom love is a sacrifice, self-denial, an obligation. Mario, little Mario, if you were able to come into my study, just for a moment, you would see many papers, many books, many knick-knacks; and you would also see, stored in a little glass bell jar, three tiny pieces of sugar, with a name and date! | Entry #21331 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don’t know how but my little school infants had found out that it was my birthday that day. I saw them arriving, dressed in their Sunday best, bearing little gifts. One brought me an elegant pen, one a little church book, another a work pouch, and yet another a big bunch of fresh flowers. I was both delighted and saddened by this: delighted because any gesture of gratitude or affection from those good children touched my very soul and made light of any sacrifice, but also saddened because I knew that the money used to buy those gifts could have been used for much more needed things. In any case, I gratefully received those sweet displays of affection. Only one of the children, the poorest among them, had nothing to offer me, but I could see from his embarrassment and from his sad little face how much he felt it that he could not. I called him over and, when he was close, I hugged him again and again, kissing him. Encouraged by those hugs, the little one handed me a tiny bundle and then, bashful, he ran away. Surprised and intrigued, I opened it without letting anyone see me doing it. There were … Guess! … Three little lumps of sugar! Immediately I called him back. “How did you know that I like sugar?” I asked him with a smile. “I guessed! I like it a lot too!” he replied. “You must have asked your mum and … ?” I asked, moved by the thought. “No, miss!” He answered quickly. “I didn’t ask anyone. This is mine, my very own.” “But …” I started. “When Granny gives me my milk and coffee she always puts two or three little lumps of sugar in the cup before she pours it in, to sweeten it. I took the sugar out and put it away.” “And your milk and coffee?” I asked, with a knot in my throat. “I drank it bitter!” Mario, my little Mario, where are you now? Perhaps the factory smoke has blackened your angel face; perhaps you now work in the fields where the harvest is turning golden and the vines are ripening. Perhaps you work on a distant travelling ship, where work is so hard and hope so deceptive … Wherever you might be, worker, farmer or seaman, your place is among those with the noblest of hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, self-denial, duty. Mario, my little Mario. If you were to come by my little study, you would see many papers, many books, many trinkets. You would also see, protected by a little glass bell, three little lumps of sugar, a name and a date! | Entry #19168 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don’t know in what way, my young pupils had learnt that on that day, I had a birthday. I saw them turn up at school in their Sunday’s best and holding a little gift in their hands. One brought a stylish pen, one a small missal, someone else a pencil case, or a nice bunch of fresh flowers. That sight soothed and pained me at the same time: I was soothed by any sign of gratitude or affection that came from those good children, because it touched my heart and lightened the burden of my sacrifice; but it pained me to think that whatever money that had gone into those purchases could have been used to a nobler end. In any case, I gleefully accepted those endearing tokens of love. Only one child, the poorest, did not give me anything: but his embarrassed countenance and melancholic little face suggested how sorry he must have been. I called his name, and when he came close, I drew him closer and held him tight in my arms, again and again, kissing him. Encouraged by that display of affection, the poor child put a little parcel in my hands, before running off bashfully. Surprised, and curious, I opened it without anyone seeing me. And in the little parcel were… guess what! Three little lumps of sugar! I called him straight back. --So you did know I like sugar? I asked, smiling on him. --I figured it out! I like it so much myself! --And - I replied, touched - surely you asked your mum and.... --No Miss! he swiftly responded, I didn’t ask anything of anyone; I have kept my own for you .... --And yet.... --When grandmother gives me my milk and coffee, she always puts two or three lumps of sugar in the cup, to make it sweeter. I took them out.... --And what about your milk and coffee...? I gasped through a tight throat. --I drank it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you now? Perhaps factory smoke has blackened your angel face, perhaps you are toiling in fields yellow with wheat, or in vineyards amongst grapes ripening in the sun, perhaps you are aboard adventurous ships, where work is so hard, and hope so vain .... Whoever you are, though, a factory worker, a peasant, or a seaman, your place is amongst the noble-hearted, those for whom love is sacrifice, self-denial, and duty. Mario, little Mario, if for a brief moment you could enter my small study, you would see many papers, many books and knick-knacks; and you would also see, safe under a tiny glass bell, three little pieces of sugar, a name, and a date! | Entry #19153 — Discuss 0 — Variant: UK
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I don’t know how, but my little students found out that that day was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school in their party clothes, bearing presents. One child brought me an elegant pen, one a small hymn book, another a work satchel, and another a lovely bunch of fresh flowers. I was both heartened and saddened by the display: heartened, because any sign of gratitude or affection from those lovely children would have touched my heart and made all the sacrifices seem mere trifles; saddened, because I thought about the money they must have spent, and how it could have been used for more worthy purposes. Nevertheless, I accepted those precious displays of love, quietly and calmly. A solitary child, the poorest one of all, didn’t bring me anything, but from his embarrassed demeanour and his little dejected face I could tell how much this must have pained him. I called him over, and when he was near, I hugged and kissed him over and over again. Emboldened by such affection, the poor child put a small package into my hands, then ran away with embarrassment. Surprised and curious, I opened the package, making sure that no one would notice. Inside there were – have a guess! Three small sugar cubes! I immediately called him back over to me. ‘Did you know that I love sugar?’ I asked him with a big grin. ‘I worked it out – I really like sugar!’ ‘But,’ I replied, quite overcome, ‘you must have asked your mother, and…’ ‘No miss!’ he retorted immediately, ‘I didn’t ask anybody anything; I put them aside all by myself, on my own… ‘But surely…’ ‘Whenever Grandma makes me a caffelatte, she always puts two or three sugar cubes next to the cup to sweeten it. I kept the sugar… ‘And the caffelatte? I asked, my throat tightening. ‘I drank it bitter!’ Mario, little Mario, where are you now? Perhaps the smoke from the workshop has darkened your angelic face, perhaps right now you are working the fields where the corn yellows and the vine ripens in the sun, or perhaps you are sailing on a venturesome ship where the work is so hard, and hope so deceptive… But wherever you may be, worker, farmer or sailor, you belong with those noble souls, for whom love is sacrifice, and self-denial, duty. Mario, little Mario, if for a moment you could enter my study, you would see many cards, many books, and many trinkets; but you would also see, preserved under a small bell-glass, three cubes of sugar, a name, and a date… | Entry #19940 — Discuss 0 — Variant: British
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I don’t know how they did it, but my little scholars somehow learned that it was my birthday that day. I watched them arrive at school, all dressed in party clothes, gifts clutched in their hands. One brought me an elegant pen, one a small prayer book for Mass, and one a lovely case for my pens and pencils. Still another handed me a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I was both consoled and saddened at the sight: consoled that such a sign of gratitude or affection would come from these good children. It touched my heart and made every sacrifice I’d made for them fade into insignificance. Still, I was saddened when I thought that the money spent on their heartfelt offerings could have been put to more noble use. In any case, it was with a sense of serenity that I accepted their precious demonstrations of love. Only one, the poorest child, offered me no gift; but his self-conscious demeanor and melancholy little face showed how greatly he must be suffering. I called him, and when he came near, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him repeatedly and kissing him. Seemingly emboldened by my caresses, the poor little cherub placed a small bundle into my hands, and then fled as if to escape his own embarrassment. Surprised and curious, I opened it carefully so that no one would notice. There were--Guess!--three packets of sugar! Immediately I called him back to me. “Did you know how much I like sugar?” I asked him, smiling. “Of course, because I really like it!” he declared happily. “And you,” I began, struggling against unbidden tears. “You surely must have asked your mother--” “No, ma’am!” he quickly replied. “I didn’t ask anything from anyone. I got it all by myself!” His voice was full of pride. “But then…” “My Grandma, when she gives me coffee and milk,” he explained, “always puts two or three packets of sugar in my coffee mug to sweeten it. I just took out the sugar..." “And the coffee and milk?” I asked, feeling my throat tighten. “I drank it bitter!” Mario, little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the smoke of some workshop will have smudged your angel face by now. Maybe at this moment you’re working in the fields, where the sun beats down on ripening crops. You might be welcoming some new adventure on a ship, where the work is hard, and clinging to hope is harder still. But whoever you are, whether a laborer, a farmer, or a man of the sea, your place is among the noble of heart, for whom love, sacrifice, self-denial and duty are a way of life. Mario, little Mario, if you could but for a moment enter into my modest study, you would see many cards, many books, a wealth of mementos collected through the years. And you would also see, kept in a little glass bell, three packets of sugar, a name, and a date! | Entry #20248 — Discuss 0 — Variant: US
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I don’t know how, but my young pupils had found out it was my birthday that day. They they were, turning up for school in their Sunday best, holding presents in their hands. One had brought me a smart pen, others a small missal, a writing case, a nice bunch of freshly picked flowers. I felt both consolation and sadness; consolation because any sign of gratitude or affection that might come from those good children touched my heart and made all my sacrifices seem worthwhile; sadness because I thought the money that had been spent could have been put to far nobler a cause. However, I calmly accepted those dear tokens of love. Only one little boy, the poorest, had nothing to offer me; but from his embarassed look and sad demeanor I realised how much he must have been suffering. I called him over to me and when he came close, I held him in my arms, hugging and kissing him. Feeling encouraged by my hugs and kisses, the poor little lad placed a tiny hand-wrapped package in my hands and ran off bashfully. Surprised and curious, making sure that no-one else could, I opened it. Guess what it was! … Three little lumps of sugar! I immediately called him back. - How did you know I like sugar? I asked him, beaming at him. - - I thought you might! I love it, I do! - - and you, I went on, feeling moved, of course you asked your mummy and… - - No Miss! He immediately replied, I never asked nobody nothing. I saved it up for you myself, all on my own… - - You really…. - - My grandma, when she gives me my my milk and coffee, she always puts two or three small lumps of sugar in my cup to make it sweeter. I took the sugar out… - - And what about your breakfast milk and coffee? I asked, with a lump in my throat. - - I had it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you now? Maybe the smoke in the factory has darkened that angelic face of yours, perhaps by now you are working in the fields where wheat is the colour of gold and grapes ripen in the sun. Maybe one of those ships that promise adventure has welcomed you aboard where the work is so hard and hope so fallable… Whatever you are now, be it factory worker, ,farm hand or sailor, your place is amongst the noblest hearts, for whom love is self sacrifice, denial, duty. Mario, little Mario, if only for a moment you could come into this tiny study of mine, you would see a a vast quantity of paper, books, small ornaments; and you would also see, preserved, under a little glass bell, three tiny lumps of sugar, with a name and a date! | Entry #16417 — Discuss 0 — Variant: British
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I don’t know how, but on that day my little pupils has come to know it was my birthday. I saw them come to school dressed in their Sunday best, each holding a small present in their hands. Some brought me an elegant pen, some a Missal booklet, some a pencil case, some a big bunch of fresh flowers. I was heartened and also saddened by this: heartened because any sign of gratitude or affection that came from those good children touched my heart and made any sacrifice seem light: saddened because I thought the money spent in buying those presents could have been destined for a more worthy use. In any case, I warmly welcomed those precious demonstrations of love. Only one child, the poorest among them, did not offer me anything: but by his embarrassed demeanour and mournful face I recognized how much he was suffering. I called him over and when he was near me, I pulled him to me and hugged him, showering him with kisses. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor boy put a small package in my hand and shyly ran off. Surprised and intrigued, I opened it without being seen. In it there were… guess what!..Three little sugar balls! I immediately called him back . --Did you know that I really love sugar? I asked him smiling. --I guessed that! I like it a lot too! --And you? I asked, touched, you must have asked your mum and… --No, miss! He replied promptly, I did not ask anyone for anything, I saved it for you, myself… -- But --My grandmother, when she gives me my milk and coffee, always puts two or three little sugar balls in my cup to sweeten it. I took the sugar out… -- And your milk and coffee?... I asked, feeling my throat tighten. --I drank it unsweetened! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe factory smoke has blackened your angel’s face, maybe you are now working in the fields where the crops are becoming golden, and the vine maturing in the sun, maybe adventurous ships will welcome you, where, yes, the work is hard and hope so illusory. But whoever you are, a worker, a farmer or a seaman, your place is among noble hearts, those for whom love is self-denial, self-abnegation, a call of duty. Mario, little Mario, if only for just one moment you could come into my study room, you would see lots of papers, many books, many trinkets; and you would also see, protected under a small bell jar, three small pieces of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #17008 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don't know how, but that day my pupils came to know that it was my birthday. I saw them arriving to school in party clothes and with a small gift in their hands. There were those who brought me an elegant pen, those with a booklet for mass, those with a pencil case for work, and those with a nice bouquet of fresh flowers. I was comforted and saddened in seeing that: comforted because any sign of gratitude or affection given to me by those nice children touched my heart and lightened every sacrifice; saddened, because I thought that the money used in those purchases could have been destined for more noble uses. In any case, I happily welcomed those beloved demonstrations of love. Only one child didn’t offer me anything, the poorest one: but his awkward demeanor and his melancholic little face made me ponder how much he had to have been suffering. I called him and when he was near me I repeatedly embraced him in my arms, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor child placed a small bundle in my hands and ran away embarrassed. Surprised and curious I opened it without anyone being able to notice. There were… guess!... Three little balls of sugar! I called him back right away. “You knew that I liked sugar?” I asked him smiling. “I figured! I like it a lot!” “And you”, I resumed heartfelt, “certainly asked your mother and....” “No ma'am!” He promptly replied, “I didn’t ask anything to anyone; I set it aside for you myself, on my own....” “But even....” “My grandma, when she gives me coffee and milk, she always puts two or three small sugar balls in the cup for me, to sweeten it. I took the sugar out....” “And the coffee and milk?...” I asked with a lump in my throat. “I took it bitter!” Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smoke from the workshops will have blackened your angel face, maybe by now you’ll be working in fields where the harvest shines golden and the grapevines ripen under the sun, maybe adventurous ships will welcome you where work is rather hard and hope is rather fallacious… But whoever you are, worker, farmer or seaman, your place is among the noble hearts, for who love is sacrifice, selflessness, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could only enter my small studio room for a moment, you would see many cards, many books, many trinkets; and you would also see, kept in a small glass bell jar, three small pieces of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #18817 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Canadian
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I don’t know how, but my pupils had discovered that day was my birthday. I saw them coming to school all dressed up and holding each a gift in their hands. They brought an elegant pen, a prayer booklet, a sewing case, a nice bunch of fresh flowers. I was both comforted and saddened by that sight: I was comforted because any sign of gratitude or affection coming from those dear boys touched my heart and made any sacrifice feel lighter to bear for me: I was saddened as I was thinking that the money used to pay for those purchases could well have been devoted to a nobler use. Anyway, I welcomed those dearest demonstrations of love. One child only, the poorest among them, came empty-handed: however, from his uneasiness and gloomy face I realized how much sorry he must have been. I called him and when he was close to me I hugged him repeatedly and kissed him. As he was encouraged by those strokes, the poor thing dropped a tiny parcel in my hands and ran away in shame. I was both surprised and intrigued, and unwrapped it without anyone noticing. It contained... Guess what! Three sugar lumps! I soon called him back to me. – How did you know I liked sugar? – I asked him with a smile. – I took a guess! I too like it so much! – And – I said, full of emotion – you certainly asked your mother and... – No, I didn’t, Miss! – he replied – I didn’t ask anyone; I set it aside myself, on my own... – But even... – My grandma, when she gives me a latte, always slips two or three sugar lumps into my mug to make it sweet. I took the sugar lumps out... – And what about your latte? – I asked, throat tight. – I just had it unsweetened! Mario, my little Mario, where are you? Fumes from factories might have blackened your angelic face, or you might right now be working the land where crops get golden and grapes ripen in the sun, or some adventurous ships might have taken you aboard where work is so hard, hope so misleading... Whether you are a blue-collar worker, a farmer or a seaman, your place is among the noble hearts, for whom love means sacrifice, self-denial, sense of duty. Mario, my little Mario, if you could be for a moment in my home office, you would see many papers, many books, many gewgaws; and you would also see, stored under a small glass bell, three sugar lumps, together with a name, and a date written down! | Entry #19874 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don't know how, but my young students had found out that my birthday was on that day. I saw them coming to school dressed up and holding small gifts in their hands. There was the student who brought me a stylish pen, another brought a little Mass book, another a work case, and another a beautiful bunch of fresh flowers. I was comforted and also saddened by the sight before me: comforted because any sign of gratitude or affection given to me by these good children touched me deeply and made every sacrifice I made seem of little burden: saddened, because I thought the money needed for those gifts could have been used for something more worthy. At any rate, I accepted gladly those dear demonstrations of affection. A child alone, the poorest, had nothing to offer me: but from his embarrassed shyness and wistful little face I could tell how much he must have suffered. I called him and when he came close to me I hugged him tightly in my arms over and over, kissing him. Encouraged by my caresses, the poor thing put a roll between my hands and then ran away, red-faced. Surprised and curious, I opened it in a way that no-one could notice. There were .... guess what! ... Three little balls of sugar! I called him back right away. --Did you know I like sugar? I asked him with a smile. --I imagined you did! I like it so much! --And you, I started again, touched, you certainly asked your mother for it and .... --No Miss! he replied quickly, I didn't ask anything from anyone; I saved it myself, from mine .... --But really .... --My grandmother, when she gives me milk with coffee, always puts two or three little balls of sugar in the coffee cup to sweeten it. I took out the sugar .... --And the milk with coffee? ... I asked with my throat tightened. --I drank it without sugar! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smoke from the workshops will have tarnished your angelic face, maybe at this hour you will be working in fields where the harvest becomes a golden colour and the vine matures under the sun, perhaps hazardous ships will greet you where the work is so hard and hope so deceptive.... But whoever you are, worker, farmer or man of the sea, your place is among noble hearts, those hearts for whom love is sacrifice, self-denial, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could come into my little study room for only a moment, you would see many papers, many books, many trinkets; and you'd see too, in a small glass bowl, three little balls of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #20689 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don't know how but my pupils found out that on that particular day, it was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school wearing their Sunday best and clasping presents in their hands. Some pupils gave me elegant pens, some mass books, some pencil cases, others beautiful bunches of fresh flowers. This display left me feeling both comforted and sad: comforted in the sense that all signs of gratitude and affection the wonderful children showed me, pulled on my heart strings and rendered all the sacrifices I made, trivial, sad, when I thought of all the money spent on the gifts, money which could have gone towards more worthy causes. Nonetheless, taking it in my stride, I welcomed the dear demonstrations of love. Just one boy, the poorest of the pupils, did not give me a present: judging from his embarrassed demeanour and the sad look on his face, I realised that the situation must have really affected him. I called him over and once within my reach, I hugged him repeatedly. Soothed by my caress, the poor thing placed a rolled up package in my hands and fled, embarrassed. Surprised and curious, I discreetly opened the package, What was it? Take a guess! Three small sugar cubes! I immediately called him back over. -- How did you know I liked sugar?, I asked with a smile. -- I thought you might! I love it! -- Touched, you did ask your mum... -- No miss!, he answered immediately, I didn't ask anybody, I saved it myself from my... -- Really... -- When grandma gives me coffee and milk, she always puts one or two sugar cubes on the saucer to sweeten the taste. I put the sugar aside. -- Barely able to speak, I asked, What about the milky coffee? -- I drank it without sugar! Mario, young Mario, where are you now. The smoke of the workshops has probably blackened your angel face, you are probably working the land where harvests are golden and where vines grow in the sun, you're probably working on valiant ships where the work is hard, hope can be misleading... Whatever you are doing, whether you are a worker, farmer or seafarer, you belong among the most generous-hearted, those who recognise love means sacrifice, self-sacrifice, duty. Mario, young Mario, if you could come into my study for just one moment, you would see a heap of paperwork, lots of books, trinkets and safeguarded in a small bell jar, you would also see three small sugar cubes, a name and a date. | Entry #16522 — Discuss 0 — Variant: UK
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I don't know how, but my little pupils had come to know that that day was my birthday. I saw them myself arriving at school dressed in their Sunday best, a small present in their hands. One brought me an elegant pen, one a small prayer book for Mass, one a pencil box, one a beautiful bunch of fresh flowers. That sight both cheered and saddened me: cheered me because any sign of gratitude or affection that came my way from those lovely little ones touched my heart and made any sacrifice seem worth it; saddened me, since I thought the coins required for those purchases could have been destined for a more noble use. In any case, I received those dear demonstrations of love calmly and serenely. Just one little boy, the poorest, didn't give me anything. Yet I realised how much he must be suffering from his embarrassed demeanour and melancholic little face. I called him to me, and when I had him close, I repeatedly clasped him in my arms and kissed him. Encouraged by these caresses, the poor little thing placed a little something wrapped-up in my hands and ran away as though ashamed. Surprised and intrigued, I opened it without anyone noticing. Inside there were...guess what it was! Three small balls of sugar. I quickly called him back to me. "How did you know I liked sugar?" I asked him, smiling. "I guessed you did. I like it a lot, me." "And you," I spoke up again, extremely moved, "of course you asked your mummy and..." "No miss!" he replied immediately, "I didn't ask anyone anything; I saved it myself, from my..." "What, but..." "My grandma, when she gives me my coffee and milk, she always puts two or three balls of sugar on the teaspoon for me to make it sweeter. I sneaked the sugar..." "And the milk and coffee?" "I drank it bitter!" Mario, little Mario, where are you now? Perhaps the smoke of the workshops has blackened your angel's face; perhaps you work the fields where the harvest grows golden and the vines mature in the sun; perhaps the adventure-seeking ships have welcomed you where the work is so hard, the hope so forlorn... But whoever you are, labourer, farm worker or seaman, your place is among the noble of heart, for whom love is sacrifice, self-denial a duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could for a moment enter my little study, you would see lots of cards, lots of books, lots of trinkets. You would also see, safe and sound under a little glass bell, three small pieces of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #20833 — Discuss 0 — Variant: British
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I do not know how, but my students found out that that day was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school with their best outfits and a little gift in their hands. Some gave me an elegant pen, or a small missal, others a hussif or a lovely bunch of fresh flowers. I was both cheered and saddened by the sight: cheered because any sign of gratitude or affection given to me by those lovely children touched my heart and made any sacrifice I made seem so light; saddened because I thought of the money needed for those gifts, which could have been put to a more noble use. In any case, I graciously accepted all those sweet manifestations of love. Only one small boy, the poorest, offered me nothing: but from his embarrassed shuffling and sad little face, I realised how much he must be suffering. I called him over and when he was close to me I hugged him tightly, kissing him and holding on for a long time. Encouraged by my affection, the poor little thing put a small bundle in my hands and ran off bashfully. Surprised and curious, I opened it without letting anyone see. Inside were…guess! …Three little cubes of sugar! I called him back straight away. “Did you know that I love sugar?” I asked him with a smile. “I guessed you would! I love it too!” Moved, I said: “And you asked your mother and…” “No Miss!” he replied straight away, “I didn’t ask anybody anything; I saved them myself, from my…” “But even…” “My grandma, when she gives me my coffee and milk, she always puts two or three cubes of sugar in the cup to sweeten it. I took the sugar out…” “And the coffee and milk…?” I asked him with my throat tight. “I drank it without sugar!” Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smoke from the workshops has blackened your angelic face, maybe by now you work in the fields where the wheat turns to gold and the vines grow fat in the sun, maybe you are on those dangerous ships where the work is so hard and hope so futile…. But whoever you are, worker, farmer or seaman, your place is with the noble hearts, for whom love means sacrifice, abnegation, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could just for one moment enter my little study, you would see lots of papers, many books and knick-knacks; and you would also see, protected by a little bell jar, three small cubes of sugar, a name and a date! | Entry #18475 — Discuss 0 — Variant: British
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I do not know how, but my sweet pupils had come to know that that day was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school all dressed up and laden with gifts. One had a classy pen, the next a little prayer book, another carried a pencil case, the next a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I felt both comforted and saddened by that sight: comfort because any sign of gratitude or affection coming from those good children touched my heart and made all my sacrifices seem feather-light; sadness, because I believed the money for those purchases could have been allocated to more a noble use. All the same, I serenely accepted that dear display of love. Only one child, the poorest, failed to offer me anything, but his embarrassed demeanor and melancholic little face brought to mind how badly he must suffer. I summoned him and when he was close to me, I held him in my arms, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor soul put a small bundle in my hand, and fled in shame. Surprised and curious, I opened it in such a fashion that no one could perceive it. There were... guess what!... Three little balls of sugar! At once I called him back to me. -- How did you know that I like sugar? I asked, smiling. -- I just figured it out! I like it so much myself! -- And you, said I starting again in commotion, you must have asked your mom and... - No, ma'am! he replied promptly, I didn't ask anybody anything; I kept it to myself just for you, it was my own decision... -- Yet... -- Grandma, when she gives me milk and coffee, always adds into the pot two or three lumps of sugar to make it sweeter. I kept the sugar... -- What about the milk and coffee?... I asked with a knot in my throat. -- I had it bitter! Mario, my little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the workshop smoke has blackened your angel face, maybe you farm the fields where harvests show their blond face and the vines where grapes mellow in the sun, perchance the adventure-ridden ships where the work is so hard have snatched you, the so fallacious hope.... But whoever you are, a working man, a farmer or a mariner, you own a place amongst the noblest hearts, to whom love is sacrifice, abnegation, a sense of duty. Mario, my little Mario, if you could for a little while enter my little study-room, you would see a lot of papers, many books, many knick-knacks; and you would also see, kept under a small bell jar, three lumps of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #20773 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don’t know how, but my young students came to know that, that day was my birthday. I saw them arriving at the school in party dresses and a gift in their hands. Some brought me an elegant pen, some a greeting card, some a stationery pouch, and others a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I was both consoled and saddened by that scene: consoled because whatever sign of gratitude or affection that I received from those good children touched my heart and made me realize about their little sacrifices for me: saddened, because I thought about the money that went into making those purchases, it could be destined for a nobler use. Anyway, I welcomed those gestures of love serenely. Only one child, the poorest of all, did not offer me anything: but watching him getting embarrassed by his own conduct and sheer melancholy on his face, I debated with myself on how much has the child suffered. I called him and when he came next to me, I held him tightly in my arms repeatedly, while kissing him. Encouraged by my affection, the poor fellow placed a roll in my hands and fled away embarrassedly. Surprised and curious, I opened it in a way so that no one else could see it. There were.... guess what!… Three cubes of sugar! I called him to come back to me immediately. --“You knew that I like sugar?” I asked him smilingly. --“I figured out that you do! As I like them so much!” -- “And you”, while containing my emotions, “you have certainly asked your mother and....” --“No ma'am!” he answered quickly, “I did not ask anybody for anything; I saved them myself, from my.... --“But still....” --“My grandmother, when she gives me coffee and milk, she always puts two or three cubes of sugar in the saucer for sweetening it. I took away those sugar cubes....” --“And the coffee and milk?...” I asked with a stiff throat. --“I drank it bitter!” Mario, my little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the smoke of the workshops might have blackened your angelic face, maybe you work at the fields where the harvest gets golden and ripens in the sun, the Vitis, and perhaps the adventurous ships shall hold you where the work is so hard, the hope seems so fallacious.... However, whoever you are, a worker, a farmer or a man of the sea, your place is amongst the ones with the noblest of hearts, for whom love means sacrifice, selflessness and duty. Mario, my little Mario, if for a moment, you could come to my little study room, you would see lots of cards, books, many knick-knacks; and you would also see, three cubes of sugar kept safe in a small bell jar, with a name and a date! | Entry #17045 — Discuss 0 — Variant: US
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I don't know how, but my pupils had come to know that that day was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school dressed up to the nines carrying little gifts in their hands. One brought me an elegant pen, one a Mass- booklet, one a sewing case, another a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I felt soothed and saddened by that view - soothed, as any sign of gratitude or affection, coming from those good children, touched my heart and made me appear any sacrifice as lightened; saddened, as I thought that the money they had to spend, could have been intended to nobler use. Anyway I serenely greeted those dear demonstrations of love. An only child, the poorest one, offered me nothing: but his embarrassed demeanour and his wistful little face made me argue how much he suffered. I summoned him and when he was close I repeatedly clutched him in my arms and kissed him. Encouraged by those endearments, the poor thing put in my hands a little bundle and fled shameful. Surprised and curious, I unwrapped it paying attention that no one might notice it. There were .... guess what! ... Three sugar pellets! I called him back right away. —How did you know that I like sugar? I asked him with a smile. —I figured it out! I love it so much! —And you, resumed I with emotion, you have certainly asked mum and .... —No madam!, he promptly replied, I haven’t ask anything to anyone; I've kept it myself, of my own .... —But however .... —When granny gives me milk and coffee, she always puts two or three sugar pellets in my cup to sweeten it. I picked up the sugar .... —And what about milk and coffee? ... I asked with my clenched throat. — I got it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smoke of workshops has blackened your angel face, maybe this time you are working in fields where crops turn gold and the vine ripens in the sun, maybe venturesome ships host you, where the toil is so hard, so misleading the hope.... Whoever you are - worker, farmer or man at sea, your place is among the noble hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, self-denial, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you for a moment you could enter my tiny studio, you would see lots of sheets, lots of books and trinkets; and you would also see, kept in a small glass bowl, three pieces of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #16762 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don’t know how, but my little pupils had discovered that it was my birthday. I saw them coming at school all dressed up and with a little present in their hands. Some offered me a stylish pen, some a Mass booklet, some a sewing pouch and some others a nice bunch of fresh flowers. At that sight, I took comfort and I felt sad at the same time: comfort because every sign of gratitude or kindness coming from those good children touched my heart and made me seem every sacrifice light; sad because I thought that the money spent on those purchases could have been destined to a nobler scope. Anyway, I serenely accepted those dear proofs of love. Only one child, the poorest one, did not offer me anything, but from his embarrassed demeanour and his sorrowful little face I could infer the depths of his suffering. I called him and when he was close to me I held him in my arms over and over again, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor little boy put a little bundle in my hands and bashfully run away. Surprised and curious, I opened it so that nobody could see. Inside there were... let’s guess! Three small sugar lumps! I immediately called him back. - How did you know I like sugar? – I asked him smiling - I guessed it! I like it so much as well! - And you – I resumed, deeply moved, - you surely asked your mother to... - No Madame! – He immediately reply - I did not ask anything to anyone. I set it aside by myself, just by myself… - But… - When my grandmother gives me my cup of coffee milk for breakfast, she always adds one or two sugar lumps to sweeten it. I took out the sugar... - And what about your coffee milk? - I asked him with a tight throat. - I had it bitter! Mario, sweet little Mario, where are you now? Maybe the soot of the factories will have blackened your angel face, maybe by now you will be working on the fields were the crops are golden and the grapes ripen in the sun, maybe you have been welcomed by the adventurous ships, where the work is so hard and the hope so deceptive... But whoever you may be, worker, farmer or sailor, your place is among the noble hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, dedication, duty. Mario, sweet little Mario, if for a moment you could enter my little study room, you would see many papers, many books, many trinkets; and you would also see, kept safe under a glass bell jar, three little sugar lumps, and a name with a date! | Entry #16210 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified Великобритания
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I don't know how, but my little schoolchildren had discovered that that day was my birthday and they came to school dressed up and with a little present for me. Someone gave me an elegant pen, someone a Mass book, a work case or a beautiful bunch of flowers. I was comforted but sad at the same time. I was comforted because any sign of gratitude or affection from those kind children could touch my heart and every sacrifice seemed to be lighter to me. But I was also sad beacuse the money they had spent for those presents could be destined to more useful aims. However I well accepted these shows of affection. Only one child, the poorest one, didn't offer me anything. But I could understand his suffering from his embarassed behaviour and mournful face. I called him and when he was enough close, I hugged him tightly and kissed him. Encouraged by those caresses, he gave me a little pack and he ran away shameful. I was surprised and curious and I opened it avoiding someone could notice it. There were... Guess it! Three sugar cubes! I called him to come closer. -- Did you know that I like sugar? I asked him smiling. -- I immagined it. I really like it too! -- And you asked sure for it to your mom and... --No Madam! He promptly answered, I didn't asked for it to anyone; I set it aside... -- But... -- My grandmother put two or three sugar cubes in the cup when she gave me white coffee, to make ti sweeter. I took it out... -- And the white coffee? I asked with a lump in my throat. -- I drank it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smoke of the works will have made your little face black; maybe at this time you will work in the fields, where the harvest is to be golden and the grapevine ripens; maybe you will go on adventurous ships, where the work is hard and the hope is illusory. Whoever you are, worker, farmer or sailor, your place is among the worthy hearts, for whom love is sacrifice, self-abnegation and duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could enter into my room just for one moment, you could see a lot of pieces of paper, books, trinkets and, appreciated into a little bell jar, three sugar cubes, a name and a date! | Entry #16462 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don't know how my little pupils found out that I had my birthday on that day. I saw them coming to school in their Sunday's best, holding a small present in their hands. One gave me an elegant pen, another a tiny missal, another still a pocket to hold the things I work with, and another a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I was both gratified and saddened by the sight; gratified because every gesture of gratitude or affection that I received from those good children touched my heart and made my every sacrifice a light burden: saddened because I knew that the money spent for those purchases could have been destined for a nobler use. Anyhow, I serenely received those dear demonstrations of love. Just one little boy, the poorest, had nothing to offer me. But, from his embarrassed behavior and his little miserable face, I could discern how much he was suffering. I called him over, and when I had him near I hugged him repeatedly in my arms and kissed him. Encouraged by my expressions of affection, the poor little thing placed a tiny package in my hands and ran away in shame. Surprised and curious, I secretly opened the package. In it there were...guess what! Three lumps of sugar! I called him over once again. "How did you know that I like sugar?" I asked with a smile. "I figured it out! I like it a lot!" "And you," I continued emotionally, "must have certainly asked your mother for..." "No, Madam!" he promptly answered, "I didn't ask for anything from anybody. I saved them myself, from my..." "But surely..." "My grandmother, when she makes me coffee with milk, she always puts two or three lumps of sugar into my mug to sweeten it. I took out the sugar..." "And the coffee with milk?" I asked feeling my throat tighten. "I drank it bitter!" Mario, little Mario, where are you now? Maybe the smoke in the workshops have blackened your angelical face; maybe you now work the bleached fields where the harvest matures under the sun, the vines; maybe adventurous ships have taken you where work is hard and hope but a false illusion... But whomever you became, a labourer, a farmer, or a man of the sea, your place is amongst those noble of heart, to whom love is sacrifice, abnegation and duty. Mario, little Mario, if only for a moment you could come into my small study room, you will see lots of paper, lots of books, lots of bits and bobs; but you will also see, preserved in a tiny glass bell jar, three lumps of sugar, a name and a date! | Entry #15826 — Discuss 0 — Variant: British
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I don't know how, but my little pupils came to know that my birthday was on that day. I saw them reach school with party dresses and with a small gift in hands. Some brought me an elegant pen, some a small mass book, some a pencil case, some a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I got consoled and sad from that view: consoled because any sign of gratitude or affection that came from those sweet little children got to my heart and made any sacrifice seem small; sad because I thought that the money needed for those purchases could have been used in a noblest way. In any way, I received peacefully those precious demonstrations of love. Only one child, the poorest, didn't offer me anything, but from his embarrassed behavior and his sad little face, I presumed how much he was suffering. I called him and when I had him close, I squeezed him repeatedly, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor little one laid a little package in my hands and ran away ashamed. Surprised and curious, I opened it without anyone noticing. There were.... guess what!.. Three sugar cubes! I called him back immediately. --Did you know that I like sugar? - I asked smiling. --I figured it out! I like it so much! --And you, I replied moved, surely you asked mom and.... --No mam! he replied promptly, I didn't ask anything to anybody, I myself kept them aside from mine ones.... --But... --When grandma gives me coffee and milk, she always puts two or three sugar cubes in the cup to sweeten it. I took the sugar out.... --And the coffee and sugar?... I asked having a lump in my throat. --I had it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smoke of factories have darkened your angelical face, maybe at this very moment you are plowing the fields where the wheat shines, and the vine ripens in the sun, maybe adventurous ships receive you, where work is hard, and hope is illusory.... But, whoever you are, an operator, a farmer, or a man of the sea, your place is among the noble hearts, for those love is sacrifice, abnegation, and duty. Mario, little Mario, if, for a moment, you could enter my small study room, you would see many papers, many books, many knick-knacks, and you would also see, stored in a small bell jar, three sugar pieces, a name, and a date! | Entry #17027 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don't know how, but my little pupils heard that it was my birthday. I saw them coming at school wearing their Sunday best and taking a little gift in their hands. Some took me an elegant pen, some a Mass booklet, some a working box, some other a bunch of fresh flowers. I was comforted and saddened seeing that: comforted because any sign of gratidude or of love coming to me from those good pupils touched my heart and made every sacrifice seem so simple: saddened, for I thought that the money used for that buying, could be intended for a nobler use. Anyway, I peacefully accepted those dear shows of love. Only a kid, the poorest one, didn't give me anything: but I guessed how much he suffered from his embarrassed behaviour and from his melancholy little face. I called him and when he was next to me I clasped him in my arms again and again, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the little poor kid put in my hands a little bundle and run away ashamed. Feeling surprised and curious, I opened it without making it noticeable to anyone. And there they were.... guess what!.. Three little sugar marbles! I quickly called him back to me. --Did you know I loved sugar? I asked him smiling. --I guessed it! I love it very much too! --And you, I continued, moved, you surely asked it to your mother and .... --No Ma'me! He suddenly answered, I didn't ask anything to anybody; I stored it for you, by myself.... --But also.... --My grandmother, when she gives me coffee and milk, she always puts in my little cup two or three little sugar marbles to sweeten it. I have taken away the sugar.... --And what about coffee? And milk?... I asked feeling my throat closed . --I've had it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Maybe the smog of the factories has made your face dark, maybe now you are working in the fields where the harvest is golden and the grapevine ripens in the sun, maybe you are carried by some adventurous ship where work is so hard, hope so illusory.... But whatever you are, worker, farmer or seaman, your place is among the noble-hearted, to whom love is sacrifice, abnegation a duty. Mario, little Mario, if just for a moment you could come in my little studio, you could see many papers, many books, many knick-knacks; and you could also see three pieces of sugar, a name and a date stored in a little bell jar! | Entry #18895 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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I don't know how, but my pupils had come to know that that day was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school in their party dress and with small presents in their hands. One who brought to me an elegant pen, a little mass-book, a work-case, a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I was both relieved and saddened by that view: comforted for any signal of gratitude or affection that proceeded from that good kids touched my heart and made every sacrifice endurable: embittered because I was of the opinion that the money spent for purchases could have been allocated for nobler use. Anyway, I accepted peacefully those lovely demonstrations of affection. A lonely child, the poorest, did not offer anything to me: but from his embarassed demeanor and from his mournful little face I assumed how much could he suffer. I called him and when he came closer, I nestled him repeatedly, kissing him. Fostered by that caresses, the poor guy put a bundle in my hands and fled ashamed. Both attonished and curious, I opened it so that no one could see me. There were.... guess what!.. Three cubes of sugar! I call it promptly back to me. -- Did you know that I like sugar? I asked him smiling. -- I imagined it! I like it so much! --And you, I resumed moved, you have surely asked your mother and.... -- No madam! He replied promptly, I did not ask anything to anyone; I have kept it, on my own... --But also.... -- When grandma gives coffee and milk to me, she always puts in the cup two or three cubes of sugar to sweeten it. I have raised sugar.... -- And the white-coffee??... I asked with tightened throat. -- I have taken it bitter! Mario, little Mario, where are you? Perhaps the workshops' smoke has blackened your angelic face, perhaps at this time you work at fields where the harvest is golden and where the vine ripens with the sunlight, perhaps adventurous ships will greet you where Working is hard and hope is illusory.... But whoever you are, worker, farmer or seaman, your place is among noble hearts, whom for love is sacrifice, abnegation, duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could enter for one moment in my little study-room, you would see plenty of papers, several books, lots of trinkets; and you would also see, hedged in a small glass bell, three cubes of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #20396 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified Италия
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It baffles me how my pupils discovered when my birthday was. I saw they arriving at school in their Sunday clothes, each one bearing a gift in their hands. One brought me an elegant pen, another gave me a mass booklet, yet another carried a pen pouch, and I even received a gorgeous fresh flowers bouquet. I had mixed feelings from that sight: I felt glad, because any expression of gratitude or affection from those brave children touched my heart, and made me feel that every sacrifice had been worthwhile; and I felt sad, thinking that the money spent on those gifts could have had a nobler destination. Anyway, I quietly welcomed that effusion of love. Only one boy, the most destitute of them all, gave me nothing; however from his discomfort and melancholic countenance I imagined how much he suffered. I called him and, as he came closer, I embraced him dearly, kissing him. Encouraged by that tenderness, the poor boy put a small package in my hands, and scrammed in shame. Between surprised and curious, I opened it in a way that nobody else could see. It contained… guess what? Three sugar lumps! I called him back immediately. “So you knew that I like sugar?” I asked him, smiling. “I guessed so! I like it too!” “And you,” I continued, almost in tears, “obviously asked your Mom to...” “No, ma’am!” he replied promptly, “I didn’t ask anyone for anything; I took them from my...” “But how...?” “Grandma, when she gives me milk and coffee, always puts two or three sugar lumps in the cup, to make it sweet. I stashed away the sugar lumps...” “And the milk with coffee...?” I gulped. “I had it bitter!” Mario, my little Mario, where are you? Maybe soot from the factories has darkened your angel-like face. Perhaps you are plowing the fields where crops blossom under the dazzling sun. Who knows, you could be sailing aboard a ship, where the work is so hard that even hope withers. Yet wherever you are, factory worker, farmer, or sailor, your place is among the noble hearts, those for whom love means sacrifice, commitment, and duty. Mario, little Mario, if you could have a glimpse of my working studio, you’d see lots of papers, many books, countless things; however you’d also see, sealed in a small flask, three sugar lumps, one name, and a date! | Entry #16564 — Discuss 0 — Variant: US
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I do not know in what way, but my scolarini had come to know that that day was my birthday. I saw them arrive at school with the parties and dress with a gift in her hands. Who I wore an elegant pen, others a little book by mass, a case from those who work, who a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers. I was comforted and saddened by the sight: consoled because any sign of gratitude or affection that I came from those good children touched my heart and made me slight opinion every sacrifice: saddened, because I thought the money it took in those purchases, could be allocated to more noble use. Anyway, I accepted serenely those dear demonstrations of love. An only child, the poorest, not offered me anything but embarrassed by his demeanor and his sad little face as I argued should suffer. I called him and when I had next to me hugged him repeatedly in his arms, kissing him. Encouraged by those caresses, the poor guy asked me a bundle in his hands, and fled shameful. Surprised and curious, I opened it and no one could see it. There were .... guess what! .. Three balls of sugar! I called him back right away from me. - Did you know that I like sugar? I asked, smiling. - I have it figured! I like so much to me! - And you, resumed moved, you have certainly asked the mother and .... - No ma'am! replied promptly, I did not ask anybody anything; we will have kept his ego, my .... - But still .... - Grandma, when it gives me the coffee and milk, always puts me in Chicchera two or three balls of sugar for indolcirlo. I have raised sugar .... - And the coffee and milk? ... I asked her throat tightened. - L'ho took bitter! Mario, Mario Bros., where are you? Perhaps the smoke blackened the workshops will have your angel face, maybe you work at this biondeggia fields where the harvest is ripe and the sun, the screw, perhaps you will welcome the ships adventure where the work is so hard, the fallacious hope so .... But whoever you are, worker, farmer or man of the sea, your place is one of the noblest hearts, to whom love is sacrifice, selflessness, duty. Mario, Mario Bros., if you for a moment I could get into my room to study, you would see a lot of cards, many books, many knick-knacks; and also you would see, kept in a small glass bell three lumps of sugar, a name, a date! | Entry #17552 — Discuss 0 — Variant: Not specified
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