COMFORT ZONE

I know five languages, 
none of them wholly.

What this means is: I presume half of what is said, 
I invent half of what I read, 
and this endless monologue, 
is the guarantee of my happiness: 
I can end every book to my liking. 

Translating a poem I haven’t understood
caresses my palate, like lavish hospitality from a host. 

Town limit  signs  on the roads,
protect my freedom to wander,
and more often, my right to get lost. 

I always have 
the permission to agree and smile silently—
the alternative to not understand, but smile anyways. 

Not knowing is not a comforting condition, 
but since I know five languages, 
all five imperfectly, 
then I am always in 
the exception of the comforting condition. 

_Translated by Tamar Marie Boyadjian
Migrant Point, 2024