[F] 106

106. C'est le nombre de points fautes que j'ai eus à ma version. Ups. 16 fautes moyennes à 4pts, le reste à 2 pts (petites fautes). Encourageant de voir qu'il n'y avait pas de grosses fautes à 6 ou 8 points mais quand même. Ma collègue a fait 16 fautes à 4 pts aussi, je ne sais pas si c'est bon ou mauvais signe.

Voici ce que j'avais fait (avec aide, vu que c'était le premier devoir, elle nous a demandé de prendre du temps, de réfléchir, de ne pas le faire en temps d'épreuve, donc encore plus flippant dans un sens, 106 pts fautes en ayant pu réfléchir et tout et tout.... >_<) :

In the middle of the garden, the wooden gloriette stands erected, finely crafted like a moucharaby. Ivy and honeysuckle are entwined together, taking the shape of a dome where the green colour shifts in hues, from an almost black shade to the light tint of a pistachio green, of a pale apple-green. Then, according to the time of day and season, the green shifts in bronze, blueish, golden, absinthe tones.  

Now that the afternoon comes to an end, its shade is filled with different scents,  it shivers and rustles with a soft wind blowing and bees buzzing. It has the roundness and the richness of a woman’s breast. In this lukewarm tiny green world, full of honeyed scents, Charlam is sipping cold tea. It is an almost pitch black tea, in which some drops of lemon have been added, hence its garnet colour glints.  He is having some sugar dissolve, cube after cube, in a teaspoon which he lays on the beverage’s edge.  Once the white sugar cube has turned into an ochre rounded oval lump, he brings the spoon to his lips and slowly swallow its liquid content. ‘How many grains of sugar can there be in this dissolving cube? he wonders, while enjoying his sip. ‘Are there as many grains as days I have lived until today ? Fewer, more?’

            He closes his eyes, dozing off for a while. His memory melts away, in the manner of the sugar lump moistened with tea, and dissolves in tiny grains, but it is now shreds of images, of feelings, of memories. All these remnants are  from the past, for the present time hardly comes to visit him when he dreams. However, it keeps him company when he is awake. For he has lost nothing of his splendor, on the contrary. The older he grows, the wiser he becomes.

Bilan : va vraiment falloir que je bosse la trad' ...
j'aimerais détailler plus, mais je n'ai pas le temps ni l'envie. Ecrire un billet de blog me demande pas mal de temps, je m'en rends compte, je ne pense donc pas pouvoir continuer à écrire longtemps.
On verra.