I managed to translate it here it is in english for you

Robert. Robert. Who is Robert? Of the Robert, on ground, there are thousands of them. Its professor of math was called Robert. His/her uncle is called too Robert. Who is Robert? Its professor of math and his uncle. When one pronounces the first name "Robert", one always tends to believe that it is a person. Curiously. Admittedly, the majority of those which are called Robert are people, indeed. Men, more precisely. But it is only "the majority". And those which remain? There is little of it. But little, it is already something. Let us classify those which remain in several categories: first of all, there are the alive beings (i.e. animals and plants), and the not-alive beings. Grotesque to name a plant? It is surely not current. But since one names the human beings and the animals, why not plants? And since the alive beings are named, why not thealive ones? What "not-alive beings"? Deaths alive? Stones? Objects? You burn. Thus let us change the question. What Robert? Emma drinks in Robert every morning before going to the college. She does not have time to have a true breakfast. His/her mother reproaches him every evening. But Robert is enough for him largely. Robert, it is all which it needs to fill its suitable amount there daily coffee. It does not need anybody other. Or rather, it does not need anything other. This extreme drink which it enivre every morning, which it gray up to the point to forget itself, it pours it in Robert. This small container, this nothing the whole, this not-alive, this very simple, stupid, flexible, and fragile thing, moves Emma. Fragile, perhaps, but this nothing fulfills with itself its mission like step many people on ground. This nothing achieves a hard labour. This nothing, it is synonymous with fidelity. Emma never could trust her buddy. Emma can trust Robert. She knows. The morning, already, it knows that Robert will be only the one day gleam blackened of math, controls, of Profs, of heads. The heads maudites, heads of the pupils. Robert is pretty to see. Robert is what there is softer, of more understanding. He does his work, and he lets himself arrange in the crockery basin. He lets himself rub. Even when water is too hot, he never shouts, he does not thunder. Robert is not Antoine. Antoine, struck to him. And when it had finished striking, it cried, because it had shame to strike. It cried, but its tears, unfortunately, could not erase all the evil which it made to Emma. Emma knows all that. Emma included/understood. Robert too. Antoine is not Robert. But Robert is not Antoine. Robert is only little of thing. Robert is all, and Robert is nothing, because Robert will be always Robert, a coffee cup which fills its work. And nothing other. Emma knows. Robert will not fill the vacuum which the absence of Antoine caused. This absence, so quickly come. Too much curtly. A vacuum around it. Robert in the eyes. But what Robert? Emma named cup Robert a coffee, which, during one moment it believed, will replace Antoine. But Antoine is there... Antoine died, but more than ever, it is there, it obsesses it, it invades it. Antoine takes already too much place, it crushes all, it made spout out too many tears. Emma trembles... of cold, of anger, it trembles because Robert is there and Antoine will not replace. Very from a blow, by a malencontreux gesture coming on behalf of Emma, Robert fall by ground and breaks in thousand pieces. What Robert? Robert is not any more.

Thank you so much for your translation ! It was very kind of you, I'm so happy that everybody can read my short story now. I have something to ask you: are you french too ? If you are, why do you live in United Kingdom now ?

Well, i'm not realy French, i used to do it in school but failed it badly, i'm pure English, i used a translator for all of the story, i tried to guess some of the sentances but got them wrong

But nah, no probs for the translations, just doing my part as a nice guy ^_^

Haha ! In fact you're online now ! Have you got msn, icq, aim or Yahoo messenger ?

Yush, i do, anime_danny@yahoo.com

Thanks ! I'm going to add you now !

I used the translation of danny69 and tried to make something that looked more "English" to me. But then, I'm only French, so if you want to correct anything, just do it



Robert. Robert. Who is Robert? Roberts, on earth, there are thousands of them. Her maths teacher was called Robert. Her uncle is called Robert too. Who is Robert? her math teacher and her uncle. When one pronounces the first name "Robert", one always tends to believe that it is a person. Curiously. Admittedly, the majority of those which are called Robert are people, indeed. Men, more precisely. But it is only "the majority". And those which remain? There is little of it. But little, it is already something. Let us classify those which remain in several categories: first of all, there are the alive beings (i.e. animals and plants), and the not-alive beings. Grotesque to name a plant? It is surely not current. But since one names the human beings and the animals, why not plants? And since the alive beings are named, why not thealive ones? What "not-alive beings"? Deaths alive? Stones? Objects? You burn. Thus let us change the question. What is Robert?
Emma drinks in Robert every morning before going to highschool. She does not have time to have a true breakfast. Her mother reproaches her every evening. But Robert is enough for her largely. Robert, it is all which it needs to fill her suitable amount of daily coffee in. She does not need anybody else. Or rather, she does not need anything else. This burning drink which enivres her every morning, which makes her tipsy up to the point of forgetting herself, she pours it in Robert. This small container, this nothing at all, this not-alive, this very simple, stupid, flexible, and fragile thing, moves Emma. Fragile, perhaps, but this nothing fulfills itself its mission like not many people on earth. This nothing achieves a hard labour. This nothing, is synonymous with fidelity. Emma never could trust her boyfriend. Emma can trust Robert.
She knows. The morning, already, she knows that Robert will be the only gleam in a day blackened of math, tests, of teachers, of heads. The cursed heads, heads of the pupils. Robert is pretty to see. Robert is what there is of softer, of more understanding. He does his work, and he lets himself arrange in the crockery basin. He lets himself rub. Even when water is too hot, he never shouts, he does not thunder. Robert is not Antoine. Antoine, hit her. And when he had finished hitting, he cried, because he was ashamed to hit. He cried, but his tears, unfortunately, could not erase all the evil which he made to Emma. Emma knows all that. Emma had understood it. Robert too.
Antoine is not Robert. But Robert is not Antoine. Robert is only a little thing. Robert is all, and Robert is nothing, because Robert will always be Robert, a coffee cup which fills its work. And nothing else. Emma knows. Robert will not fill the vacuum which the absence of Antoine caused. This absence, so quickly came. Too much curtly. A vacuum around her. Robert in the eyes. But what is Robert? Emma named Robert a cup of coffee, which, during one moment she believed, would replace Antoine. But Antoine is there... Antoine died, but more than ever, he is there, he obsesses her, he invades her. Antoine takes already too much place, he crushes all, he made spout out too many tears. Emma trembles... of cold, of anger, she trembles because Robert is there and will not replace Antoine.
All of a suden, by a infortunate gesture coming on behalf of Emma, Robert falls on the ground and breaks in thousand pieces. What is Robert? Robert is not any more.

ok, whats your addy?

Uhuhuhu. Nice translation, Ithiluir. C'est quand que je t'engage ? ^^