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« on: February 18, 2008, 02:38:13 PM »
Here, gave it a try considering French is my first language and all. Also there's a few mistakes in the French transcription I had to go back through (misaligned lines and such).
My last years
are made impatient by my clumsy brush and flew away on their own sides. I cling to their muddy shoes and yell at them to wait for me. If I do not elaborate a new battle plan, I will be the first to lose breath.
In short, this novel isn't very funny. It is made only of poses (really not sure about this one, not even sure what they mean by it in French). This kind of book, you can write one page or a hundred. I was optimistic in hoping that a sincere element would come from what I was writing. Such pretentiousness I had. I may be pretentious, but do I not have at least a good side? Despairing of my stinking and loudmouthed style, I still track every corners "At least one good thing, at least one". Doing so, I begin to stiffen noticeably: I became tired. Ah! A novel, it must be written only without afterthoughts. With good sentiments, we don't make good literature. How stupid I was - and may this word contain the worst of things! If we are not in an ecstatic state never will we be able to write a novel. If a word or a sentence bounce in your heart in ten different ways, it's best to break your brush and to throw it away. Whether it's about Yôzô, Hida or yet Kosuge, they have no needs anyway, we know where they are from. Would be childish, would be childish. Spontaneous, without thinking.
On that evening, the night was already late when Yôzô's older brother came to see him at the clinic. Yôzô was playing cards with Hide and Kosuge. The day before, when the brothers came for the first time, it seemed to me that all three of them were also playing. But you shouldn't think that they spend all their days with cards in hands. On the contrary, you could say that they hate playing. They only take out the cards when they are completely bored. Moreover, they avoid games where...
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