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Lost In Translation

I tried to decipher Walt Whitman for you, but the meaning was lost in translation.
Even in the room plastered with
Language dictionaries
We still don't
Understand each other.

On an old globe you tried to count the miles between us
But the number was too overwhelming.
Even with your airplanes and
High-luxury cruises
You still refuse to
Look my way.

Is it my skin that averts your eyes?
Is my mother tongue?

I was always trying in vain to understand,
Because I feared
That, like the poems,
You too
Would become lost
In translation.

I see now that you yourself are not hidden in between all those pages,
That you cannot be deciphered using some linguistic expert's fertile opinions.
The real words of you yourself were there all along,
Kneeling beside me, crouched over some
Encyclopedias, distracted from the truth.

Do you want the accurate translation of me?
Do you want to understand?

Then lift your eyes from your books!
From your language dictionaries!
Lift your hands from the cruel, cold paper map,
And stop trying to measure the distance with some
Equation of detached countenance.
My own countenance, like yours, has much more worth.

Let's ditch it all.
Away from the classroom atlases!
Away from the hopeless white walls!
Come stroll aimlessly with me across the grass.
And only then will you see my eyes,
And only then will you look upon my face,
And understand the tone of my voice,

Now you'll understand
That we all sing the same song,
In the same language.

Now I'll never fear being
Lost in translation
Ever again.

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