There is no shadow of anything. The clouds seem dirty.
I translate without being satisfied. In my head I hear
the clouds looks dirty,
through the window I see the clouds, They look dirty.
grimy clouds on blue sky united.
In my head, I sometimes English, sometimes French.
It depends.
What I do not know.
I would have to be careful to find out if it is arbitrary. I already know that when it comes back, I think in French but when it happened in San Francisco, in what language I think? And what language in everyday life: from one to another without rule without principle, the two languages mixed with each or placeholders? In what language I look at people, landscapes, in which language I translate what I see, what I saw?
And there's that third language that is around me, outside. The Hebrew is still too foreign, for now, something more sight and sound that add to the rest, that I see, the local color, which gives a stamp image, a grain, a dial tone.
From time to time, I intercept a word without meaning to, they are often verbs, those that I have learned so far: speak, say, want, go and personal pronouns.
Here there is no verb to be. I say, is to say I am. I French. Ani sarfart.
Sometimes I wish I was still in ignorance of the meaning of the sounds I hear I can now identify and translate into words, but it is impossible to turn back, forget what has voluntarily entered, which took definitely feel. My
at burping? Ani shararti.
(What do you want? "I forgot.)
0 comments:
Post a Comment