Hi!
I'm a french writer and I've translated a french fiction called"Comptine"(nusery rhymes) written by KsoMendokze. If you're good in french, please try to read the original text. And if you see a language mistake, say it to me, I'll correct it.
Hetalia belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and the text belongs to KsoMendokze. Only the translate is mine.
Enjoy~
Matthew didn't speak English.
He spent all his time at the window, his bear tight against him. The glow in his purple eyes was tarnished, day after day, while he saw the rain befall shortly.
Sometimes, he sang nursery rhymes in French, as gently as possible but his wavering child voice broke before the end.
Arthur didn't understand a word. However, he loved these rare moments. Since his arrival, the child hadn't addressed him a single word. When the British tried to communicate, Matthew buried his little round head in Kumajirou's fresh and white fur. The animal hated him, showing his fang as he smelled him.
The young boy was so fearful, so shy that Arthur was almost nervous. When he observed Matthew's little silhouette cut of the livid sky of London, when he see the child's curves of his halo of blond hair countenance, it appears to him so weak that Arthur was afraid that a gust of wind would hurt him.
He did not know how to go with this child. He has tried all: candies, disproportionally expensive toys, amusement park… But nothing changed, Canada was the same.
It was Alfred, Alfred so different from Matthew, who gave him the solution:
"No, not Matthew, Mathieu. He said to me that it's Mathieu."
So, it was that.
It was out of question to call Francis.
Thus, Arthur Kirkland found himself reading huge book of vocabulary, grammar or conjugation. Thus, Arthur Kirkland found himself, an afternoon, learning the language of his rival, under the regular lapping of a London's downpour.
Quickly, it's become a habit.
As far as his memories went back, Francis as always talks English to him. In an absolutely perfect English but Francis enjoyed playing whit the sound of his own language. Particularly when a lady clung to the French arm, who has elegantly proposed her after sheltering her under its umbrella.
As well, when he opened the mouth, simple words quite ordinary was tinted whit the flaming French color.
This unbearable accent. This si charmant accent.
Sometimes, Arthur caught himself like Francis use this. Noneless, when the French turned around to surprise him, a smirk on his face, Arthur hate this accent.
However, however now he started at his dripping rainy window, and he wondered what was like this unpronounceable word once out of the Francis' mouth.
Alfred still had some approximate notions of French. After he has made the American swear to not tell it to anyone, Arthur asked him to read some texts. Alfred has read whit difficulties, hesitant, abutting on some word but it was not enough for make the language unpleasant.
The child make the green French countryside sing under the spring sunshine, and sometimes he takes a few intonations of the Parisian snobbery. The French language is full of shading in its complexity and each word tells a story. Francis' story.
That was what plunged Arthur in discomfort; it was for this reason that each evening he hides his works in highly unlikely places.
And when he heard again the echoes of Matthew's voice, the words finally take theirs meaning:
"…tu as le cœur à rire, moi je l'ai à pleurer. Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierais. "(1)
1="You have the heart to laugh, and me I have it to cry. It's been a while since I love you, I'll never forgive you". This words are extracted of one french nusery song "A la claire fontaine". Go listen it!