My language is my world

My language is my world

Bengt Pohjanen

My language is my world,
weekdays and weekdays,
my language is Meänkieli.

When I speak it,
a ladder is raised up toward
the black sky of its enemies.

When I sing in it,
the wall clocks come to stop
in the gala halls of the monolinguals.

When I write in it,
snow falls
from the branches in snowy forests.

And when I speak,
the governor trembles,
when I curse, even the bishop crosses his arms.

When I take an oath,
the judge lowers his head.

When I cast a spell,
blood stoops like the walls of the Red Sea.

Whoever disputes my language,
disputes my world,
whoever disputes my world,
denies my existence,
whoever laughs at my language,
laughs at my life,
whoever mocks my language
is treading on sacred rag rugs.

Whoever wishes my language were dead
is hoping for my Grim Reaper.

The enemies of little languages h
ave been written
on all horizons.

My language complains:
why are you looking past me
even though the borders are clear?

Look in the eye, you sun-blinded people!

Literal English translation: Jack Rueter

Kategoria(t): Meänkieli poems in translation. Lisää kestolinkki kirjanmerkkeihisi.