The Writer

He was blind. Not completely. He could see yellow. He saw shadows. Sometimes light. But he could not read. He could not see detail.

The famous writer studied Old English for decades. He referred to his study as a hobby. And one lifelong. The sound of the words echoed. The ambiguity of the phrasing, of the pronunciation, even, spoke to him. Also, his love of riddles. The labyrinthine interlaced fabric of the works.  

He saw translation as a means to release the language. Translation as an unmasking, almost.  A stripping away.

But also, translation as a conversation.