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Cradling vanished words
Solely thanks to her.
She: Little, island, alone.
She and her porcelain fingers,
in secret tongue,
inscribe verses of vanished words.
She,
in half-light,
cradles and cherishes.
Saving from the oblivion of who,
at each farewell,
blows away.
It is solely thanks to her,
if I still breathe...
Geographer E. Baron acquaints us that:
Language among Papuans is very poor indeed:
Each tribe has its own tongue whose lexicon becomes continuously poor
because, after each death,
some words are suppressed as a mark of mourning.
Photographs and animations Words Soundtrack Voice
by Trama afonA