Into the Heart of the Forest
Every day I push my translator further into the forest
How far he can go, I do not know (nor do I know how far I can go)
It’s none of my business, maybe
That’s something between him and the forest, yes, the
He is also doing translations by his drawing
His very own hand pushes him to go further
See, that’s not my business, I’m quite sure
And on the way there are curious mushrooms
Offering us drinking cups
Of various wines
Their colors are tempting translations of secrets of the water, the trees, the animals, the soil, the rocks, the air,
Or everything of the forest
How far it is gone from the original, we do not have the slightest idea
Since we just began to learn the language of these mushrooms
And we are so scared that the language is poisonous, deadly
One sip of the wine
One sniff of this
To kill us, probably
But they are so dear, all the hearts
Or one heart
Of these translations
Even Google Translator, has its touching heart
When it came out this morning for my lines of one poem with:
Get a voice"
While my translator, Steve, brought this:
"And had our only speaking part
Because I was dying"
It amused me. Why not?
And I saw the heart of Google Translator beat extremely hard when I saw this:
What on earth it is?
It is creating only for me, isn’t it?
While I’m referring to the color green, it is not satisfied with what we had in English
So it does what it does