The language I know is Half-dead
Unfavorable words to brief phrases all set to get lost in translation
They fly often but fly blindly
To eyes not seeing, to mouths not tasting
Still we choose, we write them
Then decide to execute them; our suspects
Either kill ’em by a click of the thumb
Or let ’em sit til they become the forgotten ones.
Translate. But do so only after the murder of the maker then proceed.
The language I know is Half-dead.
It wants to stay in the crevices, in groves and in grouts.
The language I know is Not dead.
Dead authors; writers remain dead
For those who have perished, they stay as is
But the language I know is Not dead.
It rests, it stays dormant until some time
Authors, writers may or may not choose to distinguish,
But death can be resuscitated, and the dead can live again
Language keeps up when we..
Translate to give ’em life anew
To translate to get closer to relevance
Translation is a reincarnation; an emancipation
It is when we decide to judge the works of the past
Only then can they be regenerated.
Half-dead language, that, I used to know.