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J’ai un niveau de collège en anglais, je n’ai absolument pas la compétence pour juger si la traduction est bonne ou si c’est juste une traduction automatique à peine améliorée.
Pouvez-vous me donner votre avis si vous avez un très bon niveau en anglais ? Si la traduction est mauvaise, le traducteur n’est pas sélectionné et il en cherchera un autre.
En vous remerciant
Essai de traduction de ton début de livre :
I have been a tenant for three months in a building of 20 apartments and I had almost never come across my neighbors. A few stealthy encounters at the mailboxes, a quick hello, a gesture of civility to hold the door behind me, a smile, it was about all of the social relations that I could have made. And it was fine by me. I love silence and solitude, eremitism attracts me, I rarely leave my house and I am by no means in search of new friends, I already have too many. One morning, just like any other, I found an invitation in my mailbox: "We are organizing a Neighbors Day and your presence is desired. Please indicate if you will be bringing something to eat and / or to drink". .. I hesitated for a while because this kind of party, where everyone smiles to each other all the while judging them to then ramble about them after, was not really my cup of tea. I am not curious about the lives of others, but there are some mandatory passages in life, and presenting oneself is the least I can do. Being the new tenant in a building of owners, living on the top floor in the largest apartment, I must apologize for this dislocation in the hierarchy of norms. An unshaven, hermit tenant living above the co-owners, this was enough to create queries or even concerns. I saw some suspicious and questioning looks; my sloppy appearance was not helping me. It was final, I was going out of my den. And here I was with my salad bowl filled with assorted salads of varying quality, bread and homemade pesto that was freshly washed, leveled and cut. I had put on my best jeans (the one with no holes in it) and I was standing at the foot of the building with my housing comrades. I wanted to make a good impression which was surely due to my classical education. The buffet was already set on wooden trestles and cheap garden lounges. The culinary spaces were well defined: large salad bowls of various crisps, a mountain of charcuterie, quiches and homemade desserts (note for tonight: think to compliment the pastry chefs without marking any preference). The next famine seems far away. I will be putting on another 2 kilos. Oh, I think there is one in Somalia right now? I don't remember, I think I saw it passing on a BFMTV banner between football results and the weather. There must have been enough food for 5 days and enough drinks for 15. I spotted a forsaken water bottle from the corner of my eye. I don't drink alcohol. People always ask me about this social anomaly in the country of Rabelais. "And you don't drink?" My response varies, according to my mood of the moment, from a guilt response such as "I cannot, I have liver cirrhosis" to a replica that creates social links such as "I cannot, I had too much to drink yesterday". But generally, I pretend to drink Vodka with a glass of water so as not to disturb my hosts or pass for a sad Sire. The reception was nice, almost warm, people were somewhat all over me, I was the attraction, the novelty for these co-owners who knew each other for a long time and who have little to say to one another. And I'll jump right into the questions. Where did you live before? Are you originally from the region? How did you find the apartment? I skillfully slipped in that I was delighted with the quality of the building and its environment although, unfortunately, I don't have the chance to be an owner but rather a simple tenant. It delighted them. My integration process seems to be going on the right track right up to the question I feared: And what do you do for a living?