traduction français -> anglais (littéraire)
Posted: 24 Feb 2006 17:08
Bonjour,
je me permets de vous demander un peu de travail...
J'ai un thème à rendre mercredi; je l'ai fait. Je voudrais juste avoir otre avis dessus. Si vous voyez des grosses fautes etc... donc si vous avez quelques minutes à me consacrer...
voilà le sujet:
et voici ma traduction:
What a voracious Town! It grows, it spreads, it gains ground. Oh, of course, when we turn our eyes towards it from the top of the cliff, we reassure ourselves and we say we have time. Up to the rocky and unbroken front of its first wave, we can get the view of kilometers of greenery, apparently uninterrupted. But this greenery already gets dull, since the forests are no more than parks, and the fields are no more than watsegrounds, if not manuring plains. Shooting straight out of the star-shaped Town, some roads cut and carve through the countryside, strengthen thanks to a double shell of houses and a double stone-rampart, against which the steel folw of the cars starts to run. Up to Virelay now, there are stone and steel. The road is urban, and it creates an impassable border between various zones. And here are the cross - country trunk roads, piercing each zone, that are pointing and lengthening as they spill their shell of houses. They are still wavering, they are still meandering like lanes. Soon, they will sitffen, straighten, and their straight criss-cross will cut off green squares that will be cut and cut again, and eaten by roads which cross cross-country links, until the last agony, between the fences, of emaciated vegetable gardens. And here are the houses that are jostling each other, that are robbing one another of places where the view is unrestricted. Here are the narrow, rarefied fields that are rubbing against each other, and that are reduced to patches of parallel gardens. Here are the farms, jammed, that are dying. Here are the dirt tracks that are covering themselves with clinker and coating themselves with tar. Here are the party walls that are quarreling. And, one morning, the farmer, already a commuter, awakesn in the middle of an industrial suburb and is surprised to suffocate, and to be a city dweller.
Voilà, je sais c'est un peu long. J'ai eu pas mal de problemes de vocabulaire, mais aussi de structure de phrase...
Merci d'avoir lu!
je me permets de vous demander un peu de travail...
J'ai un thème à rendre mercredi; je l'ai fait. Je voudrais juste avoir otre avis dessus. Si vous voyez des grosses fautes etc... donc si vous avez quelques minutes à me consacrer...
voilà le sujet:
et voici ma traduction:
What a voracious Town! It grows, it spreads, it gains ground. Oh, of course, when we turn our eyes towards it from the top of the cliff, we reassure ourselves and we say we have time. Up to the rocky and unbroken front of its first wave, we can get the view of kilometers of greenery, apparently uninterrupted. But this greenery already gets dull, since the forests are no more than parks, and the fields are no more than watsegrounds, if not manuring plains. Shooting straight out of the star-shaped Town, some roads cut and carve through the countryside, strengthen thanks to a double shell of houses and a double stone-rampart, against which the steel folw of the cars starts to run. Up to Virelay now, there are stone and steel. The road is urban, and it creates an impassable border between various zones. And here are the cross - country trunk roads, piercing each zone, that are pointing and lengthening as they spill their shell of houses. They are still wavering, they are still meandering like lanes. Soon, they will sitffen, straighten, and their straight criss-cross will cut off green squares that will be cut and cut again, and eaten by roads which cross cross-country links, until the last agony, between the fences, of emaciated vegetable gardens. And here are the houses that are jostling each other, that are robbing one another of places where the view is unrestricted. Here are the narrow, rarefied fields that are rubbing against each other, and that are reduced to patches of parallel gardens. Here are the farms, jammed, that are dying. Here are the dirt tracks that are covering themselves with clinker and coating themselves with tar. Here are the party walls that are quarreling. And, one morning, the farmer, already a commuter, awakesn in the middle of an industrial suburb and is surprised to suffocate, and to be a city dweller.
Voilà, je sais c'est un peu long. J'ai eu pas mal de problemes de vocabulaire, mais aussi de structure de phrase...
Merci d'avoir lu!
J'ai parcourru ta traduction et je la trouve pas mal. 