The only problem was that I couldn't communicate with Dario. He speaks Italian and I don't. We had a translator the whole time. I just felt that something was lost with the go between. He was a delightful man, but I wish we could have spoken the same language.
quote by Kim Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I Was Happy Once But Didn't Know It
I was happy once but didn’t know it
Like sands flowing through my hands I blew it
Stupid and selfish I was being
Couldn’t communicate what I was feeling
Lost it all one day online
From time to time I still wish she were still mine
Someone now I can never find
She was once so loving, tender, and kind
My young ones gone to another state
Years now gone maybe eight
My youngest girl it’s me now she hates
It wasn’t me that opened the floodgates
I told I tried to do everything that I could
I thought it all she understood
To give it all back that I would
Now all gone downstream like driftwood
To her I tried to still communicate
Seems to much, to little, and to late
She is now fourteen and still growing
I never expected her to be all knowing
I chased her mother away for I was not being attentive
Too little to late for I was so passive-aggressive
I love her so and never showed her
All I was showing was just my anger
I should have given her what she wanted
Hurtful words used I wish I could’ve recanted
I never realized I was hurting her so
I had no choice but to let her go
I loved her so and still do now
I will have to make my life work now somehow
I was lost and thought I was found
Now love’s buried far underground
To hold and love I have no one there
She says about me she still does care
Looked for love and couldn’t find it anywhere
To try again, do I dare?
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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That Money Speaks Every Language
That money speaks every language has often been said before
And what also applies to money is much always wants more
And that moneyed people rule the World is something we all know
The more money they accumulate the more their power does grow.
Compared to those in poverty the millionaires seem few
And in saying that money speaks every language is not saying anything new
For every millionaire there is thousands in poverty
It is money and the lack of it that causes inequality.
That with money speaks every language most surely would agree
That's how it was and that's how it is and that's how 'twill always be
The poor sad pauper of the street to greatness none inspire
It is those who have heaps of money that others do admire.
Their dreams of success and wealth and fame so many do pursue
And that money speaks every language so happens to be true
For the poor of the poor suburb success seems far away
And the gap between the haves and the have nots is widening by the day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Things
Art must mount a full-scale attack on language itself,
by means of language and its surrogates, on behalf of the standard of silence.
Susan Sontag.
I talk too much.
The Things are:
a flower
a grain of sand
a spark.
And all together.
Translator bulgarian-english: : Milena Veleva
poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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Not a barrier- the language
Music has no language,
I can enjoy your tongue.
Glances have no language,
I can understand their intentions.
Touches have no language,
I can feel their meanings.
Not in same tongue though we are
No less do we communicate.
20.01.99, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Histrionic Personality Disorder
'If it exists, you've got it', she said,
closing the file and swiveling my way
so that the five-flights-up Italian sunshine fell in her face.
I was impressed. These old buildings have granduer. Windowsills.
This she said carefully, through a translator: 's'il existe, dunque....'
Her lipstick-lined lips mouthed the words. I've always liked Milan-
and its 'porcupine of a cathedral', as Lawrence called it...felt happy there.
It has an Alpine brace and busyness missing in the south. But 'disgratia',
The rest of her remark was lost. My Italian's not that good.
'Gosh', I thought, 'I'm talking to the world's expert on HPD-
(having flown halfway 'round the world for a consultation,
and, not incidently, to hear an opera)
But to the translater I wondered what she meant 'if it exists',
speculating that if I'd waited two days I'd have gotten a better fee.
He translated the question. 'Essatamente', she replied, coolly,
'E s'il non existe...' Exasperating! Italian doctors now seemed as vague
as their American counterparts. The translater seemed embarrassed-
He coughed and looked down. 'Allora'. 'But, but...'
Being the expert, she was supposed to know, wasn't she?
Looking at the floor, the translater clarified a point.
I noticed the way her suit turned her blue eyes green.
I'd read of the.....
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Angel Of Miracles
She couldn’t teach through lecture
As the student was unable to hear.
Nor could she teach by exhibit.
The blind student could not see it.
The student was able to respond to touch.
It would be necessary to learn how much.
In other instances one could use taste.
Such learning could not be done in haste.
Other times she could teach using smell.
Done kindly to bring him out of his shell.
These are the only ways to communicate,
Establish an interactive state.
The scholar must expand his repertoire
In order to communicate with the mentor.
Communication involves at least two people.
For this the mentor must be responsible.
The original language had to be built
As a form of Braille, not seen but felt.
The one developed, used both hands’ fingers.
In different combinations representing letters.
The teacher must provide an object to feel
And spell its name, using finger Braille.
Then repeat this over and over until
The student relates the object to the spell.
Communication is established one word at a time
The patience required is greater than sublime.
Then after success with more than one session
Must begin again with Braille 8 dot conversion.
Alphabet using both small and capital letters
Define objects requiring combinations of fingers.
Numbers and symbols and all punctuation
Must be learned and be used in each situation.
The student is driven by a need to communicate.
The teacher has an angelic drive to dedicate
Great effort to providing a life of true usefulness
To this loved one of God with all of its brightness.
poem by James L. A. Huetson
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The present is a present, so be present
Always, behind the known,
the greater unknown…
behind the tedious Latin translation,
the struggle to find French elegance in French -
the private joys of the translator…
that rare intimacy, as a soul to soul
across the divides of language…
‘Laetus in praesens’ says Marsilio Ficino
in his Renaissance colloquial Latin
written up around the wall
of his Academy, such as it was…
The translator – half mechanical,
half philosopher, scribbles down
‘Rejoice in the present’..
and presently, pauses, contemplates…
Is it, was it, as easy as all that?
Sounds good, but is it practical?
In another age, Eckhart Tolle will expound
The Power Of Now – how joy
will follow presence, as the night the day…
The translator, cautious in his guidelines,
contemplates ‘Be present, rejoicing..’
as a poetic alternative… thus satisfying
philosophy as the study of causes…
checks various manuscripts; ah,
it’s written in one as ‘impraesens’…
almost adjectival; as a necessary state:
‘rejoice, being present’ then, perhaps?
Behind the shoulder of the translator,
stands as always, just as does
the unknown at the shoulder of the known,
(not quite nudging, sometimes, the writing arm)
the author…so close, this present moment,
is his presence…
the translator, gifted with a present by the wise,
the presence of the wise,
is wholly present; and that almost
imperceptible joy – recognised only
by the absence of all other things –
which the wise call bliss,
steals like a blessing
from the eternal, timeless, unblemished,
perfect now.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I felt like an extraordinary hero. I was only five or six and I had the whole of life in my hands. Even if I had been driving the carriage of the sun I could not have felt any better.
Bear With Me
The operator girl
kept saying this to me
over the phone
while waiting for her
to finish her assignment
I requested for her to do
but she kept saying
'Bear with me, bear with me...'
I thought to myself
what do I have to bear with
only a phone call bill
at the end of the month...
and a little patience
for this girl to finish her job?
but she is so sweet to say
such words that warm my heart
in the end
what do I have to bear with now?
A new light shined on me
with this man as sweet as this girl
who keeps saying
'Bear with me, bear with me...'
but this man is not English speaker
so he can't say
'Bear with me.'
but he is the rekindled heart
that was brought forth
in my life now
but I don't have to bear with it
nor suffer through with it
but just a zest or play
some kids might enjoy doing
with their friends
I also became a child
to play the play things
with him
so delightful to hear him say
in my language
that was forgotten in me
for so long
but now returned a new
in different form of language
a new language
Living in two language worlds
made me forget all the things
that were inherent in that language
but now they are returned and refreshed a new
in this fellow a new fiery light
who is he?
I don't quite well know
but is better than the one who kept
saying to me over the phone
on one fine day
'I love you! I so much love you,
that's all I want to say to you
to let you know..'
He didn't give me his name nor
his identity but only the empty 'I Love You's
over the phone in one afternoon
but this new light-shine on me
a new friend is not saying such stupid words
but things he needs to know
needs to say and do
Those are the ones he only says
and the language he speaks is so refreshing
and renews my heart
the lost words
in me returned through him.
Hello, friend,
are you gonna stay around for a long time
or are you gonna go away and
not return..
only he is the one who will answer this question.
So today I bear with this girl
who is doing a job for me
and who is sweet enough to say
such sweet words to me
that brought me another poem like this
this morning.
No more of suffering
no more of bearing
but simple facts and duties to fulfill
life's journey has ended here
and job well done,
done with.
10: 07am Korea-Japan Time
(November 9,2012)
poem by Sangnam Nam
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The translator's task is to create, in his or her own language, the same tensions appearing in the original. That's hard!
quote by Manuel Puig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The language with largest vocabulary
It has only seven letters
And has the largest vocabulary
There is no dearth
Of expression
For any situation or emotion
One same thing
Can mean a million things
King Solomon deciphered
Ants’ impression using this language
Indian mythology has it that
A much revered teacher
Taught all his disciples
Using this language
Clearing their all doubts
On any subject
It is not written
It is not spoken
It is not heard
But has in-depth meaning
And a lot application
It is not formally taught
As it has no syllabus
People pick up this
In their life paths
Some do not just pick this up
But, make excellent use of it
And successfully overcome
Difficult and challenging maneuvers
This language came into being
Long before the creation of this universe
Yes, it is not a just a global language
It is a universal language
This is in use world over
This is a common language
But often not used
This language has no grammar
No problem of spelling words wrong
There are no present, future or past tenses
There is no subject, predicate or object
As there are no sentences framed with this language
When used the person can still keep smiling
Often understood as a consent granted
Even the just new born is
As much as much eloquent
With this language
As the person who is preparing for departure
There is none to teach
But the language is learnt
The language is quoted as golden
As it can hurt no one
Much learned people resort to this
When they are to negotiate
Challenging situations
Some great philosophers
Teach their students
Comprehensively with the use of this language
By using this language
You are sure to win
Great many things
Use this wonder language
Effectively and appropriately
The language of silence
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Language from Womb to Tomb
It is heard from mother's womb,
taught and learned through the days
and years; repeated, remembered,
quoted, mimicked, twisted,
spoken to bless and to curse.
It is to make one
come across the border lines
It is to feel a part of the whole
It is to understand and be understood.
It is seed that grows through the years
It is a pen that records the scars and stars
It is present in the years of our life
the years lost and gone
and the years to come.
It is language
from mother's womb
to our own tomb
It is language of jubilation,
of judgment and adoration
It is law and order
It is history-
document and monument.
It is victory and defeat.
It is the language of love
It is the language of hate.
It is the language of life
and the language of death.
_____________
May 7,2010
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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By A Swimming Pool Outside Syracusa
All afternoon I have been struggling to communicate in Italian with Roberto and Giuseppe, who have begun to resemble the two male characters in my Italian for Beginners, the ones who are always shopping or inquiring about the times of trains, and now I can hardly speak or write English.
poem by Billy Collins
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We thought the church had withdrawn from interfering in Italian politics... but instead there is a terrible resurgence. These are ugly signs for freedom of expression.
Then I realized my early work did have something special that audiences adored apart from what I humbly thought about them. They occupy a distinguished niche in Italian film history and probably always will.
quote by Dario Argento
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unable To Say Goodbye
It seems like everytime
I contacted you
You always seemed to give me
A reason not to believe
That you still wanted to
Be in this relationship
I know I tried many times
For you to tell me the truth
And to communicate with me
Directly that you were letting go
I know I have made many excuses
For why you couldn't
Or How you couldn't
Do that for me
You hurt me
Really bad this time around
But I believed in you and our love
I'm not sure you believed in me
Or my love for you
I Travel
Cities, buildings falling down
Ideal homes falling down
These pictures I see on the wall
Timeless leaders stand so tall
Assassin in a hit and run
Asia steals a new born son
Evacuees and refugees
Presidents and monarchies
Travel round
I travel round
Decadence and pleasure towns
Tragedies,luxuries,statues,parks and galleries
Europe has a language problem
Talk, talk, talk, talk, talking on
In central europe
Men are marching
Marching on and marching on
Love songs playing in the restaurants
Airport playing bi some lo
Travel round
I travel round
Decadence and pleasure towns
Tragedies,luxuries,statues,parks and galleries
Europe has a language problem
Europe has a language problem
America has a language problem
I travel
Euro-bureau-interpol
Making love to the criminals
Asia has a language problem
I travel
And on and on and on and on and on and on and on
song performed by by Simple Minds, music by Simple Minds, lyrics by J. Kerr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Know The Word of the Spirit Original 01 16 2011
TO KNOW THE WORD
OF THE SPIRIT:
Original 01 16 2011
To know the word as motive
Know that God speaks the nous
Between his will and knowledge
Prerogatives of vision and reason
To know the word as verbal
Know that God speaks transcendent
Nous -to know the word as noun
Know God speaks the tone of you
To know the word as poem read
To know the word as pronoun
Know that god does not speak
Of you god speaks to you
To know the word as adverb
Know that God does not speak
About you God speaks through you
To know the word as adjective
Know that God speaks by you
To know the word as preposition
Know God speaks from the heart
To know the word as poem write
To know the word is off the table
Know that God knows who sops
And all that was [was] forgiven
To know word as free verse
To know the word as parable
Know that God speaks nous
To know that God has spoken
Know pain and pleasure in spirit.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permissions.
poem by Lee B. Mack
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You as My Problem...
He was mine
Before he got to know you
He was mine
And I know that you knew
But you just couldn’t leave us alone
I know it killed you inside
Whenever you saw him close to me
Your hatred just tended to collide
To the point that it made you lie to him
By telling him that my love for him wasn’t true
But now I know the problem that happened between us
And that problem is definitely you
You couldn’t stand seeing me happy
You couldn’t control your jealousy
You just wanted to get whatever pleased you
Not caring if it hurt me emotionally
Your intentions are predictable
Don’t think I’ll never know
About all the bad you have done to me
The emotional injuries that cut me deep below
I will never forgive you
For all the bad you have done
He was mine... and only mine
And don’t you dare think you have won!
poem by Marria Attar
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