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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415042" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Forgotten Dialect Of The Heart</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,<br>and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,<br>God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words<br>get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according<br>to which nation. French has no word for home,<br>and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people<br>in northern India is dying out because their ancient<br>tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost<br>vocabularies that might express some of what<br>we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would<br>finally explain why the couples on their tombs<br>are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands<br>of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,<br>they seemed to be business records. But what if they<br>are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve<br>Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.<br>O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,<br>as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind's labor.<br>Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts<br>of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred<br>pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what<br>my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this<br>desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script<br>is not laguage but a map. What we feel most has<br>no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Anonymous submission.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jack+Gilbert">Jack Gilbert</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415042" data-title="The Forgotten Dialect Of The Heart de Jack Gilbert" data-description="How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no ..."></div>
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