Sicilian Expressions Novels & Stories

Sophia said, picking up her glass. “Your weird sense of humor hadn’t died in all these years. I admire your ability to ruin things. You do it with panache. I came here to cool my jets but it looks like you have something else in your mind.” They clinked glasses. “In Bocca al lupo, it’s just how Italians say good luck. But the literal translation is, - into the wolf's mouth.” Liam laughed, by supplying her the meaning. “Spanish men are players but they are charmers with their accents and their big smiles.” Sophia smiled looking at him dreamily.

Sicilia released a heavy sigh before speaking sadly, “I really hope so Maya, I’m an old Lady even though I do not look my age. I want to have to see my oldest grandchild to get married and making a family for his own one day.” “That’s any grandparents’ dream, I guess. Madam, don’t mind me asking. Do you have other grandchildren?” Maya could not help but ask. Sicilia nodded, but she looked sadder, which made Maya regret asking. “Yes, but they don’t show up very often. Only this child Lexi spend so much time with me even though I am a willful old lady,” Sicilia said mockingly. “That child looks really heartless, but in truth, he is a soft and gentleman from within. So I sincerely hope tha

she said, looking up at him in awe. Damiano nodded. “Extremely proud. Sicilians are loyal, trustworthy… They give a lot of value to values. Sicilians haven’t just been shaped by thousands of years of different cultures and rulers, but also by the land and the weather. Here, in Sicily, the summers are warm, muggy, dry, and clear, while the winters are long, cool, wet, windy, and partly cloudy. The interior of the island is dry, rocky, and arid, while the exterior is one of endless coastlines with picturesque beach towns and breathtaking views. We’re surrounded by water and yet, at the center is Etna, Europe’s largest, most active volcano.”

yti, scusa se non sono stato onesto, izvini, ya podvel tebya, perdonami per la mia gelosia, prosti, ya osudil tebya, mi dispiace per averti fatto arrabbiare, izvini, ya narushil obeshchanie, scusami per aver urlato, prosti, ya vmeshalsya, perdonami se non ero presente, izvini, ya ne byl chestnym, mi dispiace per averti trascurato, prosti, ya tebe navredil slovami, scusami, ho sbagliato ancora..." (I’m sorry, I was wrong, I’m sorry, I was wrong, I’m sorry, I hurt your feelings, I’m sorry if I hurt you, please forgive me, forgive me, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it, I’m very sorry, I didn’t think it would turn out this way, I’m very sor

Blinking up at him she frowned, he had automatically spoken in Italian and it took her sleep befuddled brain a minute to work out what he was saying, ‘Casa? Siamo tornati in Sicilia?’ [Home? We are back in Sicily?] He nodded kissing her nose, ‘Sì, amore mio, siamo tornati sulla nostra bellissima isola.’ [Yes, my love, we are back on our beautiful island.] She rested her head against his chest again with a soft sigh,

I breathe out silently. I hurry forward. Every nerve is sharp, expectant.“Excuse me, per favore,” I start, voice breathless. They turn. Confusion flickers on both their faces. I realize they don’t understand. My pulse surges. But thank god…I studied, I say softly to myself: Grazie al cielo che ho imparato un po’ di siciliano. I take a breath, firming my shoulders, and say: “Buongiorno, signorina. Sto cercando questo indirizzo: Via delle Ginestre ventiquattro, per caso è da queste parti?”

Caelius nods, but doesn’t loosen his grip yet. “Scegli, dannato stronzo. Pick you fucking asshole.” Caelius had picked up on Seb’s use of the English after to translate what he’s saying, Geroge crosses his arms and looks at Luciano. He sags and looks to his brother, “Potresti almeno fare in fretta?” Caelius sighs, rolls his eyes and nods, reluctantly, “Sì, farò in fretta, per il bene di nostro padre. I’ll make it quick for our father’s sake.” Seb sneers,

"I'm f‍l‍atte‌re⁠d." "Don‌'‌t be​," N⁠onna snapped. "⁠It means ev‍ery st​reet thug with a knife is looking for you." "We can't sta​y here," I​ said. "I⁠f he​ fi​n‌ds us..." "He won't find you h‍ere," Nonna sa​id.⁠ "Not to​day. Bu⁠t you cannot hide forev‌er. You need to leave Sicily."⁠

(it was an ambush) The shock that plastered on Lucian’s face soon twisted, his brows dipped down and his nose flared. Then his voice boomed down the hall, “Rafael, quell figlio di puttana!” (Rafael, that son of a bitch!) His feet hit the floor harder as he stormed toward the living room, every step carrying the weight of his anger. “La Sicilia e il mio territorio!” (Sicily is my territory!) He growled, hands cutting through the air in anger.

He has already been waiting for years to see me tripping. “Giovà, is there something troubling you?” Mr. Scamarcio asks, pinching his bottom lip as he is still scanning the maps spread in front of him. “Fimmini.” [Sicilian for women] I answer nonchalantly, not wanting him to indulge further. But I know better than to lie to him. He barks out a laugh. “It’s always them, isn’t it?!” The men around us laugh and I can see Gianluca distort his face.