Knuts Skujenieks

1936 / Riga

A word is a word

I'm not conquerable I'm not destroyable in the open
Field trampled cursed and spat on
Don't look at my bones that ever slower
Walk under my skin but if you wish to look perhaps
This is a lesson listen to my words listen
Listen hear listen again but listen
Because my words are my work and other work I don't have
I won't have
A battle in life in which I'll be the loser because
I don't have either a bayonet or war ruse only words
I place in the centre in the most open place to root after
A year or two hundred what does it matter? If right now or
After seven ounces of sweat what does it matter?
My bones aren't worth a penny because I have words and they're
Not janis' peter's or knuts Skujenieks words these WORDS are
Human
If you want to look balance bones on elbows or
Put your foot in front but a word is a word even forgotten
It leaves echoes in the forest circles in water and peoples'
Discord with life and themselves
Even the most vulgar word the most bitter word is human
Not for me to know nor you where these words come from
Or where they go
And our lack of knowledge keeps us alive indebated to death
Our being
So listen hear beside me root

Translated by: Margita Gailītis. Latvian literature. Latvijas Literatūras centrs
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