Voilà pouvez vous me donnez un coup de pouce pour les deux questions suivantes.
Par avance merci beaucoup.
1. Traduire en français
a. "They were thirty cents short of a hotel room"
b. "That job would kill a white man ; I only lasted five days and was sick as a dog for three weeks from the smell; it gets in your hair, your skin... I had to burn my clothes..."
2. Explain in English:
a. "to grab a sleep"
b. "you could eat right off the black and white tiles on the floor"
c. "he could never outrun them"
Ci-dessous le texte en rapport avec la question 2.
After they had their steaks, they were thirty cents short of a hotel room, so they headed on over to Grant's Park, where they hoped to grab a sleep in one of the shacks, made out of tar paper and cardboard and a few scraps of lumber, that you could sometimes find if you were lucky; and they were lucky that night.
Before they went to sleep, the kid said, as he had every night, "Tell me about where all you've been and what all you've done, Smokey."
"I told you that once."
"I know, but tell me again."
Smokey told him about the time he'd been in Baltimore and had a job at the White Tower hamburger place, and how it had been so shiny and clean you could eat right off the black and white tiles on the floor; and about the time he had been a coal miner, outside of Pittsburg.
"You known, a lot of these fellows will eat a rat, but as for me, I couldn't do it. I've seen 'em save too many lives. Saved mine, once. Rats are the first ones to smell gas in a mine..."
"One time, me and this old boy was deep down in this mine, picking away, when all of a sudden here comes two hundred rats running past us, going more than sixty miles an hour. I didn't know what to think, and this old colored boy throws his pick down and shouts, 'Run!' I did, and it saved my life. If I see one, to this day, I just let him go on about his rat business. Yes sir, they're tops in my book."
The kid, who was almost asleep, mumbled, "What's the worst job you ever had, Smokey?"
"Worst job? Well, let's see... I've done a lot of things a decent man wouldn't do, but I guess the worst was back in 'twenty-eight', when I took that job in the turpentine mill, down at Vinegar Bend, Alabama. I hadn't had nothing to eat but pork and beans in two months, and I was so busted that a nickel looked as big as a pancake, or I'd of never took the job. The only white people they could get to work down there were the Cajuns, and they called them turpentine niggers. That job would kill a white man; I only lasted five days and was sick as a dog1 for three weeks from the smell; It gets in your hair, you skin... I had to burn my clothes..."
Suddenly, Smokey stopped talking and sat up. The minute he heard the sound of men running and shouting, he knew it was the Legion. In the past couple of months, the American Legion had been raiding the hobo camps, knocking down everything in their path, determined to clean up the riffraff that had descended on their city.
Smokey shouted to the kid, "Let's go! Let's get out of here!"
And they started running, just like the hundred and twenty-two other residents of that particular Hooverville that night. All you could hear was the sound of men crashing through the woods and the sound of the tar-paper shacks being ripped apart and struck down with crowbars and iron pipes.
Smokey ran to the left, and as soon as he hit thick underbrush, he lay down, because he knew, with his weak lungs, he could never outrun them. He went flat to the ground and stayed there until it was over. The kid could run and he'd catch up with him somewhere down the line.
Later, he went back over to the camp to see if there was anything left standing. What had once been a little town of shacks was now just loose piles of tar paper, cardboard, and wood, scattered and smashed flatter than pancakes. He turned and was leaving when he heard a voice.
The kid was lying about twenty feet from where their shack had been. Surprised, Smokey went over to him. "What happened?"
"I know you told me not to ever untie my shoes, but they was tight. I tripped."
"I think I'm killed."
Smokey squatted beside him and saw that the right side of his head had been beaten in. The kid looked up at him.
"You know, Smokey... I thought tramping would be fun... but it ain't..."
Then he closed his eyes and died.