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Message de here4u posté le 01-11-2025 à 16:53:32 (S | E | F)
Hello dears,
A phone call tore Kristien's night... Apprehensive, she finally talked to her sister Anna...
Translate into French:
A gasp at the other end. ‘How did you know?’
'She was here last night she came on the back of a big bird.'
The memory was startingly vivid. I’d looked at my watch, it was just past one; Michael was
snoring. She’d come with the memories of sunsets and thunderstorms, and dust-devils swirling
on the plains, and of birds, and of silence deeper than earth or water.
Anna’s voice cut across the recollection. ‘Kristien, what are you saying? You mean you dreamt
about Ouma?' 'No, I couldn’t sleep and I saw her, but she wouldn’t talk to me’. Hearing an
unintelligible sound in my ear I sighed. ‘All right, then. Let’s say it was a dream’. Now tell me'
«Something terrible has happened.»
«Is she dead?» I whispered.
«No.» A catch in her voice. 'At least, not yet. She… They burned down the house. Last night.
And now she’s … she keeps quarrelling with the doctors and the nurses. She thinks you’re with
her and she keeps on talking to you.» A choked laugh . «She says she has stories to tell you.»
«For God’s sake get to the point,» I snapped, aware of Michael lending an ironical ear to the
conversation. «Tell me what happened.» I insisted.
«I’m trying to. It was after midnight. Someone threw a bomb or something through her
window. No one knows for sure yet. But they say the place is burnt down, you can imagine,
all that woodwork. Somehow she managed to get to the phone before she collapsed, but even
so- it was hours before they could put out the fire- and now she’s in hospital, in Intensive
police all over the place, and the farmers are calling up a commando, and Heaven knows what’s
going to happen.»
André BRINK, Imaginings of Sand.
Cet exercice est un
et sa correction sera en ligne le dimanche 16
novembre 2025. Beaucoup de temps, donc... Courage à vous tous.
Message de here4u posté le 01-11-2025 à 16:53:32 (S | E | F)
Hello dears,
A phone call tore Kristien's night... Apprehensive, she finally talked to her sister Anna...
Translate into French:
A gasp at the other end. ‘How did you know?’
'She was here last night she came on the back of a big bird.'
The memory was startingly vivid. I’d looked at my watch, it was just past one; Michael was
snoring. She’d come with the memories of sunsets and thunderstorms, and dust-devils swirling
on the plains, and of birds, and of silence deeper than earth or water.
Anna’s voice cut across the recollection. ‘Kristien, what are you saying? You mean you dreamt
about Ouma?' 'No, I couldn’t sleep and I saw her, but she wouldn’t talk to me’. Hearing an
unintelligible sound in my ear I sighed. ‘All right, then. Let’s say it was a dream’. Now tell me'
«Something terrible has happened.»
«Is she dead?» I whispered.
«No.» A catch in her voice. 'At least, not yet. She… They burned down the house. Last night.
And now she’s … she keeps quarrelling with the doctors and the nurses. She thinks you’re with
her and she keeps on talking to you.» A choked laugh . «She says she has stories to tell you.»
«For God’s sake get to the point,» I snapped, aware of Michael lending an ironical ear to the
conversation. «Tell me what happened.» I insisted.
«I’m trying to. It was after midnight. Someone threw a bomb or something through her
window. No one knows for sure yet. But they say the place is burnt down, you can imagine,
all that woodwork. Somehow she managed to get to the phone before she collapsed, but even
so- it was hours before they could put out the fire- and now she’s in hospital, in Intensive
police all over the place, and the farmers are calling up a commando, and Heaven knows what’s
going to happen.»
André BRINK, Imaginings of Sand.
Cet exercice est un
et sa correction sera en ligne le dimanche 16novembre 2025. Beaucoup de temps, donc... Courage à vous tous.
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