To the disappearing languages

What should men say in the late afternoon
about the tongues waiting for their turn
to depart with the drowning sunshine?
What must men do before the evening
about nations sitting to enjoy the moon
but allowing tongues to face an end?
Now, thousands of tongues have sunk,
today, thousand tongues have drowned.
Will they ever resurrect from the sea bed?
Or, will they sleep till the world without end?

Hurry up before the sun leaves for the endless sea
taking with him the wilted holy tongues of mankind!
Build now asylums for the tongues in mortal agony,
and let them flourish like white roses in the morning!
Who might be the men to save the tongues from the sea?
Who might be the one to prepare asylums for the tongues?
Expecting a martyr from the sleeping moon will be too late.

Yogyakarta, Indonesia, 13 November 2003