When you say that language is dying

It is as if you said that fire is being extinguished

When I say that language is dying

It is as if I said that the lamb is dying

But fire is extinguished naturally, by itself

And the lamb, nevertheless, is sold by a Judas

It is crucified unjustly by a Pilate

And a Longinos hangman kills it

I write in the language of my ancestors

I write in the language that was spoken in the Head of this Kingdom

The majority language in our territory

The only one that was understood in all our towns

Nowadays, this is called a "minority" language

They will find

Neither white flowers

Nor traces

The bench that you used as a bed until yesterday

The voice you used as emigrant compass

Will be today, along with your body, fuel to the flames

But you will become the bush that burns

But is never consumed

You will be eternally on fire

As long as the word in the mouth of your people remains alive