Thank you, Braille writing!
I still recall that week when I met you.
I still bring to mind, the hours when, with anxious, shaking hands, I traced your curves, the days when, with ecstasy, I devoted myself to the exploration of your recesses, the nights I fell asleep meditating, why for you, one and two was two, two and four was nine and one and four was three, why a simple symbol changed what was equal, and why another one made the small grow; the dawns when you deciphered for me, inside the dark intimacy of my room, beautiful phrases about your secrets; the mornings when I woke up lost between sleep and dream, thinking of the first story you told me.
I still dream of the lessons of life, you taught me, through your own code, but which you always made me work for. Every day I think of the pleasures you brought. But neither dream nor thought told me that they were simply the first of the numerous doors to pleasure, whose keys only you owned. I saw the world and myself in a new light. You taught me how to understand life without seeing it. You made me grow up without the hypocritical human importance assigned to image. In short, you taught me to overcome the first barrier of life in the dark.
Times passes, the lesson remains.
I already know your story
But the desire to know more, grows.
I always feel small next to your greatness
Because your wisdom is my weakness.
You enlighten everything, you explain everything
And for giving me pleasure, I’ll never forget you.
You understand me, teach me and amuse me
You accept my pace, and I thank you
Because thus you never compromise me
I stop every minute, I rashly proceed
I don’t understand the message, now it doesn’t matter
To reach your pace is the inoperative struggle
Nature stops me, the will drives me
Because the desire of going forward calls me
I enthusiastically touch, I pick up speed
I grow desolate ah! I can’t match your pace
“Don’t despair”, soon after you comfort me
You say without rancour “Don’t hurry”
Today you went through another of my doors”.
Time passes, the lesson remains,
Your words, who understands them,
Only time will tell, it explains everything.
I accept the challenge, but you introduce me to the future,
And your speed, ah! I don’t even try to match it
The voice is now, the teacher,
But in my soul, the pain grows as I fail to match your speed.
Your words, I already understand them
You’re the best. I explain, but no one understands,
Your pleasure can only be understood through reading
You’ve filled me with pleasure, you’ve made me travel, you’ve given me something to read, you’ve taught me to fly, you’ve allowed me to enter the world of writing. Excited, is how I feel, because in every touch, a new sensation, ah, I beg you: guide my hand. There is no wickedness, only homesickness, and through you I have been born again, read the past, comment on the present, prepare the future, with other eyes, on my fingertips, and with a new inner vision.
Now I don’t see you so often, but whenever I can, I set you down on my legs, I caress your contours; I handwrite you, each dot, each cell, I turn you over, I feel your perfume, I make you stand out, but they don’t understand, don’t dream of or know your value. They tell me the new fashion is much quicker, but “fast and true does not exist”. They say you are old-fashioned, that your format, is too expensive, but I am proud to know you. In fact I try to listen, but it tires my ears, I loose my way, it does my head in, and I miss the point of what was said or written. “You learn to concentrate. Speed comes with practice.” Once again it is the current law; don’t I have a choice? What happened to these people?
I can’t make notes, I want you by my side, to interiorize that which is important, to write down immediately what is on my mind. They don’t understand, because on every corner you are available, even at the kiosk or the station. They forget us, but they always indulge their pleasure. But don’t worry; they will not be able to kill you, the new fashion also globalizes you. I know that I was not the only one you satisfied, that received the greatest pleasure in life, but I don’t feel jealous, on the contrary, I feel happy, knowing that over the five continents, in each country, you have been known for a long time, and many have used you to travel, to dream, to simply read or express themselves.
That’s the way I’ve done it, I do it, I learnt and see it, your touch strengthens me, gives me freedom, makes me feel at ease, knowing how to read you moved me forward, annulled my illiteracy, suggested a degree and without your support, I would definitely not have succeeded.
Your presence is no longer constant
Because the new fashion is absorbing me now
All my time, in an incessant way.
I search for answers, new knowledge, other information,
But the greatest lessons I learnt were yours.
I don’t already hesitate, I confess,
Every thing I write, I process.
But every time an important moment arises,
It’s to you I turn, without delay,
For your silence, is more comforting.
To use you daily? It is not a commitment,
Your now have another mission,
So am I going to forget you? No way!
Once again you have a big role in my life,
When you help me choose goods.
I pick up the milk, cream, juice,
Do I mix them up? Those days are gone,
Now you’re already law, as part of consumer equality.
Your presence was no longer constant,
But now, you have been reborn again,
And everyone who uses you thinks you are important
When reading and writing you, I now have company,
The new fashion, technology.
I devote her, more time, more attention,
And I just keep my hand in with you.
However I am satisfied,
Because you let me see the future,
For which I thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
You are not a lover, but you are a love, you’re not a woman, or a being, but I owe you part of my knowledge, of who I am, and of what I may be. You’ve devotedly taught me, your reading, your writing, and as a mother by the altar, with no sign of grief you’ve passed me on to your rival, to your partner, because you gave me the basis for healthy growth.
Thank you very much: Braille writing!