Every Language
By Ives Roquetta
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Every language is that of home
Or just noise, powerless against silence.
The words let themselves be led
To the slaughterhouse like those oxen
You saw grazing down in the dell
Horn against horn, as if still
Yoked together.
They are also like the dead
When the earth molds them
Into gods once and for all.
Still, you can't ask everything of them.
They're just what you are.
The Original:
Tota Lenga
Ives Roquetta
Tota lenga es la de l'ostal
o pas que bruch sens poder sul silenci.
Las paraulas se daissan menar
al masèl coma aqueles buòus
que vesiàs pastencar dins la comba
bana contra bana, e coma
s'èran juntats pel jo encara.
Revèrtan los mòrts atanben
quand la tèrra se los pasta
per los far Dieus un còp per totes.
Mas i pòdes pas tot demandar.
Son çò que siás.
By Ives Roquetta
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Every language is that of home
Or just noise, powerless against silence.
The words let themselves be led
To the slaughterhouse like those oxen
You saw grazing down in the dell
Horn against horn, as if still
Yoked together.
They are also like the dead
When the earth molds them
Into gods once and for all.
Still, you can't ask everything of them.
They're just what you are.
The Original:
Tota Lenga
Ives Roquetta
Tota lenga es la de l'ostal
o pas que bruch sens poder sul silenci.
Las paraulas se daissan menar
al masèl coma aqueles buòus
que vesiàs pastencar dins la comba
bana contra bana, e coma
s'èran juntats pel jo encara.
Revèrtan los mòrts atanben
quand la tèrra se los pasta
per los far Dieus un còp per totes.
Mas i pòdes pas tot demandar.
Son çò que siás.
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