Le Monde de L'Écriture – Forum d'entraide littéraire

03 décembre 2020 à 07:40:01
Bienvenue, Invité. Merci de vous connecter ou de vous inscrire.


Le Monde de L'Écriture » Encore plus loin dans l'écriture ! » Textes non francophones » Amnesia Nervosa ( version anglaise )

Auteur Sujet: Amnesia Nervosa ( version anglaise )  (Lu 1395 fois)

Jon Ho

  • Invité
Amnesia Nervosa ( version anglaise )
« le: 16 août 2013 à 00:08:00 »
Je me suis amusé à traduire ce texte en anglais.
Pas évident mais je suis assez content du résultat.

Bonne lecture


Amnesia Nervosa

I have amnesia.

Hello, my name is Paul and I have amnesia. I'm not saying this to excuse small memory lapses or my slightly awkward impression of things. No, it’s the real and immediate disappearance of my tracking of time I’m talking about. The immediate just disappears into a black hole, sneaks past me incognito, slips through the cracks of my memory.

Hello my name is Paul. I have the memory of a goldfish and arms instead of fins. I am alone in my bowl. Tired and driven half-crazy, my friends are all gone, taking with them the little confidence I still had in me. Or rather in this ersatz “me”. I would like to say something close to my heart, to put the handcuffs of my suffering down on paper. I have amnesia.

First though, I’d like to do the polite thing and introduce myself. My name is Paul, or Polo to my “friends”. Yes, I lost all my acquaintances but one, his name is Jack, the only one able to resist my unbearable systematic-symptomatic repetitions. He has amnesia like me. Last time I invited him to mine for 2pm, to have a coffee and enjoy some time on my terrace. Just as I was about to go and do some shopping at the local supermarket, Jack turned up. 2pm sharp. I found it really rather annoying, him popping by without warning. I was just about to go collect some seashells with my nephew on the beach. The weather was great, perfect for a walk in the woods, under the delicate shade of the large oak trees. I remember Brice, my aunt’s son, had recently found some chanterelle mushrooms or some starfish, can’t really remember which. In any case I remember waves crashing on our sandcastles between the ferns, pretty pine cones floating along towards us. My nephew Louis couldn’t believe the gentleness of the waves on his calves. She splashed her mischievous little face with the foam of the waves, laughing at the salt bites on her redhead’s skin. What a beautiful morning that was.

Who the hell put this blank sheet of paper in front of me and a pen in my right hand? I thought I was left-handed. My handwriting is legible though. I’ll read it again later to check I haven’t been repeating myself over and over and if everything makes sense. I can feel a violent headache coming along. I need to get these words out, it helps relieve the pain.

I wish I was a great big elephant; I could easily file each memory in a folder as thick as life itself. All things carefully sorted out. Then all the brain would have to do is take its pick ...

Sometimes you get up from your couch to fetch something from the kitchen. Once you’ve opened the fridge, you suddenly haven’t the faintest idea what you’re doing there, what you might possibly have been looking for...Imagine it would be like that everywhere and all the time. At times my keyboard is a “qwerty”, the day before I was certain it was a “yrteaz”. I don’t think my doctor gave me medicine for this. If so, where the hell did I put them? I remember my family doctor, a good friend, panicked a little after he’d listened to me talk. I spent three hours telling him all about the most important moments of my life. It’s always easier to confide in a stranger. It’s easier to resist being judged or worse, sent packing. After a good fifteen minutes, the doctor adjusted her glasses, looking very grave, and handed me a prescription full of scribbles. I remember asking her if I should take the pills before or after meals. She said the most important thing was to always sift the sand for the castle properly so that it could better resist the onslaught of the waves. Just then Jack walked into the room and slipped this health pro a $20 bill in her bra. She smiled, letting go of the pole, I went out to rob the pharmacy.

I'm Polo and I’m really not sure if I have amnesia or if I’m just a drop-out in my bowl. A goldfish is swimming inside my skull, in circles because of the shape of its prison. I need a cigarette. I love the feeling of my lungs filling up with smoke, I the play with the ash. Brice, my nephew, always asks me why I don’t go hunting monsters in his cupboard with him. I told him to, to avoid telling him how boring I find his game, that my cigarette, dangling from my lips, could set all his clothes alight. She is adorable. I’m blessed to have such a smiling and patient niece. Every five minutes I ask what her name is, she always replied in a friendly way, never angry and she never once called me stupid.

Oh, there they are...my pills were right next to my pack of cigarettes. I'll take some now, I like the blue ones best, they make me go away, far away. Far away from what I am becoming. An empty mind in an unknown body.

 


Écrivez-nous :
Ou retrouvez-nous sur les réseaux sociaux :
Les textes postés sur le forum sont publiés sous licence Creative Commons BY-NC-ND. Merci de la respecter :)

SMF 2.0.17 | SMF © 2017, Simple Machines | Terms and Policies
Manuscript © Blocweb

Page générée en 0.024 secondes avec 20 requêtes.