Poet Ali: Hi. Audience: Hi.
Poet Ali: Ćao. Publika: Ćao.
PA: I want to ask you guys a question. How many languages do you speak? This is not a rhetorical question. I actually want you to think of a number. For some of you, it's pretty easy. Inside your head, you're like, "It's one. You're speaking it, buddy. I'm done." Others of you maybe are wondering if the language an ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend taught you, where you learned all the cusswords, if it counts -- go ahead and count it. When I asked myself the question, I came up with four, arguably five, if I've been drinking.
PA: Hteo bih da vas pitam nešto. Koliko jezika govorite? Ovo nije retoričko pitanje. Zapravo hoću da dođete do broja. Za neke od vas to je prilično lako. U glavi ste u fazonu: "Jedan. Pričaš ga, druže. To je to." Ostali među vama se možda pitaju da li se jezik koji ste naučili od bivšeg partnera, na kome ste naučili sve psovke, da li se računa - slobodno ga računajte. Kada sam pitao sebe to isto, došao sam do broja četiri, verovatno pet, ako sam pio.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(In Italian: With a little bit of wine I can speak Italian.)
(Na italijanskom: Uz malo vina mogu da pričam na italijanskom.)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Cheers!
Hvala!
But on closer examination, I came up with 83 -- 83 languages, and I got tired and I stopped counting. And it forced me to revisit this definition that we have of language. The first entry said, "The method of human communication, either spoken or written, consisting of the use of words in a structured or conventional way." The definition at the bottom refers to specialized fields, like medicine, science, tech. We know they have their own vernacular, their own jargon. But what most interested me was that definition right in the center there: "the system of communication used by a particular community or country." And I'm not interested in altering this definition. I'm interested in applying it to everything we do, because I believe that we speak far more languages than we realize. And for the rest of our time together, I'm going to attempt to speak in one language that is native to every single human being in this room.
Međutim, posle detaljnijeg ispitivanja došao sam do 83 - 83 jezika, onda sam se umorio i prestao da računam. Ovo me je nateralo da preispitam tu definiciju jezika koju imamo. Prva odrednica je glasila, ''Način ljudske komunikacije, na kome se govori ili piše, koji se sastoji od upotrebe reči na strukturiran i konvencionalan način.'' Definicija na dnu se odnosi na specifične oblasti, kao što su medicina, nauka, tehnologija. Znamo da one imaju svoj govorni jezik, svoj žargon. Međutim, ono što me najviše zaintrigiralo jeste srednja definicija: "sistem komunikacije koji se koristi u određenoj zajednici ili državi." Ja nisam zainteresovan za menjanje ove definicije. Ja sam zainteresovan za njenu primenu na sve što radimo, zato što ja verujem da mi pričamo mnogo više jezika nego što mislimo. Tako da ću za preostalo vreme koje danas imamo, pokušati da pričam na jednom jeziku koji je maternji svakom ljudskom biću u ovoj prostoriji.
But that changes things a little bit, because then it's no longer a presentation. It becomes a conversation, and in any conversation, there must be some sort of interaction. And for any interaction to happen, there has to be a degree of willingness on both parties. And I think if we just are willing, we will see the magic that can happen with just a little bit of willingness. So I've chosen a relatively low-risk common denominator that can kind of gauge if we're all willing. If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.
Međutim, to malo menja stvari, zato što ovo više nije prezentacija. Ovo postaje razgovor, a u svakom razgovoru, mora postojati neka vrsta interakcije. Da bi se ostvarila bilo kakva interakcija, mora da postoji određeni stepen volje i kod jednog i kod drugog sagovornika. Ja mislim da, ako smo samo voljni, videćemo magiju koja se može dogoditi uz samo malo volje. Tako da sam izabrao zajedničkog imenioca koji nosi relativno malu količinu rizika, koji može ovo nekako da proceni, ako smo svi voljni. Kad si srećan i kad to znaš lupi dlanom ti o dlan.
(Claps)
(Tapšanje)
Now you're talking!
Tako vas volim!
(In Spanish: For all the people who speak Spanish, please stand up. And look at a person sitting to your side and start laughing.)
(Na španskom: Za sve ljude koji pričaju španski, molim vas, ustanite. Pogledajte osobu koja sedi do vas i počnite da se smejete.)
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Thank you so much. Please be seated.
Hvala vam puno. Molim vas sedite.
Now, if that felt a little bit awkward, I promise there was no joke being had at your expense. I simply asked the Spanish-speaking audience to stand up, look at a person that was sitting close to them and laugh. And I know that wasn't nice, and I'm sorry, but in that moment, some of us felt something. You see, we're often aware of what language does when we speak somebody's language, what it does to connect, what it does to bind. But we often forget what it does when you can't speak that language, what it does to isolate, what it does to exclude. And I want us to hold on as we journey through our little walk of languages here.
Sad, ako je ovo bilo malo neprijatno, obećavam da nije u pitanju šala na vaš račun. Jednostavno sam zamolio ljude u publici koji pričaju španski da ustanu, pogledaju osobu koja sedi do njih i da počnu da se smeju. Znam da to nije bilo lepo, i izvinjavam se. Međutim, u tom momentu, neki od nas su osetili nešto. Vidite, mi smo često svesni onoga što jezik radi kada pričamo na nečijem jeziku, šta radi da nas spoji, šta radi da nas poveže. Međutim, često zaboravljamo šta radi kada ne možete da ga razumete, šta radi da nas izoluje, šta radi da nas isključi. Tako da želim da pričekamo dok obavljamo našu malu šetnju kroz jezike ovde.
(In Farsi: I'd like to translate the idea of "taarof.") I said in Farsi, "I'd like to translate this idea of 'taarof' in the Persian culture," which, really -- it has no equivalent in the English lexicon. The best definition would be something like an extreme grace or an extreme humility. But that doesn't quite get the job done. So I'll give you an example. If two gentlemen were walking by each other, it'd be very common for the first one to say, (In Farsi: I am indebted to you), which means, "I am indebted to you." The other gentlemen would respond back, (In Farsi: I open my shirt for you) which means, "I open my shirt for you." The first guy would respond back, (In Farsi: I am your servant) which means, "I am your servant." And then the second guy would respond back to him, (In Farsi: I am the dirt beneath your feet) which literally means, "I am the dirt beneath your feet."
(Na Farsiju: Voleo bih da prevedem "taroof" ideju.) Rekao sam na Farsiju: "Voleo bih da prevedem ovu ideju persijske kulture "taroof", koja zapravo nema ekvivalent u engleskom rečniku. Najbolja definicija bi bila nešto poput ekstremne milosti ili ekstremne smernosti. Ali ovo ne obavlja posao u potpunosti. Tako da ću vam dati primer. Ako dva gospodina hodaju jedan pored drugog, bilo bi veoma uobičajeno za prvog da kaže, (Na Farsiju: Dugujem ti), što znači: "Dugujem ti." Drugi gospodin bi odgovorio, (Na Farsiju: Otvaram košulju za tebe), što znači: "Otvaram košulju za tebe." Prvi lik bi odgovorio, (Na Farsiju: Tvoj sam sluga) što znači, "Tvoj sam sluga." A onda bi drugi lik odgovorio, (Na Farsiju: Ja sam prašina pod tvojim nogama) što bukvalno znači, "Ja sam prašina pod tvojim nogama."
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Here's an exhibit for you guys, in case you didn't get the picture.
Evo vam eksponat, u slučaju da niste stekli predstavu.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
And I share that with you, because with new languages come new concepts that didn't exist before. And the other thing is, sometimes we think language is about understanding the meaning of a word, but I believe language is about making a word meaningful for yourself.
Delim ovo sa vama, zbog toga što sa novim jezicima dolaze novi koncepti koji nisu postojali ranije. Druga stvar, ponekad mislimo da je smisao jezika razumevanje značenja reči, ali ja verujem da je poenta jezika da učinimo reč značajnom za sebe.
If I were to flash this series of words on the screen, some of you, you'd know exactly what it is right away. Others of you, you might struggle a little bit. And I could probably draw a pretty clear-cut line right around the age of 35 and older, 35 and younger. And for those of us that are in the know, we know that's text-speak, or SMS language. It's a series of characters meant to convey the most amount of meaning with the least amount of characters, which sounds pretty similar to our definition of languages: "system of communication used by a community." Now, anyone who's ever got into an argument via text can make a case for how it's maybe not the best method of communication, but what if I told you that what you saw earlier was a modern-day love letter?
Da sam hteo da prikažem ovu seriju reči na ekranu, neki od vas bi momentalno znali šta je. Drugi među vama bi se malo pomučili. Verovatno bih mogao da povučem prilično jasnu liniju tačno oko dobi od 35 godina i više, i od 35 i manje. A za one od nas koji razumemo, znamo da je ovo tekstualni govor ili SMS jezik. To je serija karaktera koja ima za cilj da prenese što više značenja sa što manje karaktera, što zvuči prilično slično našoj definiciji jezika: "sistem komunikacije korišćen od strane zajednice." Sad, bilo ko ko se ikad posvađao preko poruka može lako da dokaže kako to možda nije najbolji metod komunikacije, ali šta ako vam kažem da je ono što ste videli zapravo moderno ljubavno pismo?
If you follow along: "For the time being, I love you lots, because you positively bring out all the best in me, and I laugh out loud, in other words, let's me know what's up. 'Cause you are a cutie in my opinion, and as far as I know to see you, if you're not seeing someone, would make happy. For your information, I'll be right there forever. In any case, keep in touch, no response necessary, all my best wishes, don't know, don't care if anyone sees this. Don't go there, see you later, bye for now, hugs and kisses, you only live once."
Ako obratite pažnju: "Trenutno te mnogo volim, zato što pozitivno izvlačiš najbolje iz mene, i smejem se naglas, drugim rečima, javi mi šta ima novo. Pošto si sladak/slatka po mom mišljenju, i koliko znam, sastanak, ako se ne viđaš ni sa kim, bi me mnogo usrećio. Za tvoju informaciju, biću ovde zauvek. Kako god, ostanimo u kontaktu, odgovor nije neophodan, sve najbolje, ne znam, ne zanima me ako iko ovo vidi. Nećemo o tome, vidimo se, zbogom zasad, zagrljaj i poljlubac, samo jednom se živi."
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Kind of a modern-day Romeo or Juliet.
Nešto poput modernog Romea, ili Julije.
In that moment, if you laughed, you spoke another language that needs no explanation: laughter. It's one of the most common languages in the world. We don't have to explain it to each other, it's just something we all feel, and that's why things like laughter and things like music are so prevalent, because they seem to somehow transcend explanation and convey a profound amount of meaning.
U tom momentu, ako ste se nasmejali, pričali ste drugim jezikom za koji ne treba objašnjenje: smehom. Smeh je jedan od najuobičajenijih jezika na svetu. Ne moramo da ga objašnjavamo jedni drugima, svi ga osećamo, i zato su stvari kao što je smeh, i kao što je muzika, toliko pretežni, zato što izgleda da nekako prevazilaze objašnjenje, i prenose dubok stepen značenja.
Every language we learn is a portal by which we can access another language. The more you know, the more you can speak. And it's something common that we all do. We take any new concept, and we filter it through an already existing access of reality within us. And that's why languages are so important, because they give us access to new worlds, not just people. It's not just about seeing or hearing, it's about feeling, experiencing, sharing.
Svaki jezik koji učimo je portal, preko koga možemo da pristupimo drugom jeziku. Što više znaš, to više možeš da govoriš. A to je nešto što je zajedničko svima nama. Primimo bilo koji novi koncept, i pustimo ga kroz filter već postojećeg pristupa realnosti unutar nas samih. Zbog toga su jezici toliko važni, zato što nam daju pristup novim svetovima, ne samo ljudima. Ne radi se samo o gledanju i slušanju, radi se o osećanju, iskustvu, deljenju.
And despite these languages that we've covered, I really don't think we've covered one of the most profound languages, and that's the language of experience. That's why when you're talking with someone, if they've shared something you've shared, you don't need to explain it much. Or that's why, when you're sharing a story and you finish, and the people you're talking to don't quite get it, the first thing we all say is, "Guess you had to be there." I guess you had to be here this week to know what this is about. It's kind of hard to explain, isn't it?
I, uprkos ovim jezicima koje smo pokrili, stvarno mislim da nismo pokrili jedan od najdubljih jezika, a to je jezik iskustva. On je razlog zbog kog, kada pričate s nekim, ako su iskusili nešto što i vi, ne morate mnogo da objašnjavate. Ili, to je razlog što, kada pričate priču i završite je, i ljudi kojima je pričate je baš i ne razumeju, prva stvar koju svi mi kažemo je "Trebalo je da budeš tamo." Pretpostavljam da je trebalo da budete ovde, sada, da biste znali o čemu se radi. Pomalo je teško objasniti, zar ne?
And for the sake of our research, I'm going to close by asking that you participate one more time in this language of experience. I'm going to filter through some languages, and if I'm speaking your language, I'm going to ask that you just stand and you stay standing. You don't need to ask permission, just let me know that you see me, and I can also see you if you speak this language of experience. Do you speak this language? When I was growing up in primary school, at the end of the year, we would have these parties, and we'd vote on whether we wanted to celebrate at an amusement park or a water park. And I would really hope the party wasn't at a water park, because then I'd have to be in a bathing suit. I don't know about you, but sometimes when I approach a dressing room, my sweat glands start activating on their own, because I know the garment is not going to look on me like it did on that mannequin.
U svrhe našeg istraživanja, zatvoriću sa molbom da još jednom učestvujete u ovom jeziku iskustva. Proći ću kroz neke jezike, i, ako pričam vaš jezik, zamoliću vas da ustanete i ostanete da stojite. Ne treba da tražite dozvolu, samo mi pokažite da me vidite, i ja takođe mogu vas da vidim ako pričate ovaj jezik iskustva. Da li pričate ovaj jezik? Dok sam odrastao, u osnovnoj školi na kraju godine smo imali žurke, i glasali bismo za proslavu u zabavnom parku ili u akva parku. A ja sam se stvarno nadao da neće biti u akva parku, pošto bih onda morao da nosim kupaći. Ne znam za vas, ali ponekad kada se približim svlačionici, moje znojne žlezde se aktiviraju same od sebe, zato što znam da taj komad odeće na meni neće izgledati kao na lutki iz butika.
Or how about this? When I would go to family functions or family gatherings, every time I wanted a second plate -- and I usually did --
Ili šta kažete na ovo? Kad god bih išao na porodične proslave ili na porodične skupove, svaki put kad bih želeo drugi tanjir - a obično bih -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
it was a whole exercise in cost-benefit analysis, my relatives looking at me like, "I don't know. Do you really need that? Looks like you're doing OK there, bud." Did my cheeks have a big "Pinch me" sign that I didn't see? And if you're squirming or you're laughing or you stood up, or you're beginning to stand, you're speaking the language that I endearingly call "the language of growing up a fat kid." And any body-image issue is a dialect of that language.
Pokrenula bi se cela praksa analize cena - korist, moji rođaci bi me gledali u stilu, "Ne znam. Da li ti to stvarno treba? Deluje kao da ti je dosta, druže." Da li su moji obrazi imali veliki znak "Uštini me" koji ja nisam video? Ako se meškoljite, ili se smejete, ili ste ustali, ili počinjete da ustajete, govorite jezik koji ja iz milošte zovem "jezik odrastanja debelog deteta". A svaki problem sa predstavom o telu jeste dijalekat tog jezika.
I want you to stay standing. Again, if I'm speaking your language, please go ahead and stand. Imagine two bills in my hand. One is the phone bill, and one is the electric bill. Eeny, meeny, miny, mo, pay one off, let the other one go, which means, "I might not have enough to pay both at the current moment." You've got to be resourceful. You've got to figure it out. And if you're standing, you know the language of barely making ends meet, of financial struggle. And if you've been lucky enough to speak that language, you understand that there is no motivator of greatness like deficiency. Not having resources, not having looks, not having finances can often be the barren soil from which the most productive seeds are painstakingly plowed and harvested.
Hoću da nastavite da stojite. Opet, ako pričam vaš jezik, molim vas izvolite ustati. Zamislite dva računa u mojoj ruci. Jedan je račun za telefon, a drugi je račun za struju. Eci peci pec, jedan je mali zec, a drugi je prepelica, eci peci pec, što znači, "Možda neću imati dovoljno da platim oba sada." Morate da budete snalažljivi. Morate da kalkulišete. Ako stojite, poznajete jezik teškog sastavljanja kraja s krajem, jezik finansijske borbe. Ako ste bili dovoljno srećni da pričate tim jezikom, razumete da ne postoji motivacija toliko jaka kao što je nedostatak. Nemanje resursa, nemanje lepog izgleda, nemanje novca, mogu često biti plodno zemljište iz kog se mukotrpno ore i žanje najplodnije seme.
I'm going to ask if you speak this language. The second you recognize it, feel free to stand. When we heard the diagnosis, I thought, "Not that word. Anything but that word. I hate that word." And then you ask a series of questions: "Are you sure?" "Has it spread?" "How long?" "Doctor, how long?" And a series of answers determines a person's life. And when my dad was hungry, we'd all rush to the dinner table to eat, because that's what we did before. We ate together, so we were going to continue doing that. And I didn't understand why we were losing this battle, because I was taught if you fight and if you have the right spirit, you're supposed to win. And we weren't winning. For any of you that stood up, you know very well that I'm speaking the language of watching a loved one battle cancer.
Pitaću vas da li pričate ovaj jezik. U trenutku kada ga prepoznate, slobodno ustanite. Kada smo čuli dijagnozu, mislio sam, "Ne ta reč. Bilo šta, samo ne ta reč. Mrzim tu reč." A onda pitaš gomilu pitanja: "Da li ste sigurni?" "Da li se proširilo?" "Koliko dugo?" "Doktore, koliko dugo?" A onda serija odgovora odredi ljudski život. Kada je moj tata bio gladan, svi bismo pohrlili za sto da jedemo, zato što smo to radili ranije. Jeli smo zajedno, tako da smo hteli da nastavimo sa tim. A ja nisam razumeo zašto smo gubili tu bitku, zato što su me učili da, ako se boriš i imaš odgovarajući duh, treba da pobediš. A mi nismo pobeđivali. Za sve vas koji stojite, znate vrlo dobro da pričam jezik gledanja voljene osobe kako se bori sa rakom.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Any terminal illness is a derivative of that language.
Bilo koja bolest sa smrtnim ishodom je derivat tog jezika.
I'm going to speak one last language. Oh -- no, no, I'm listening. Yeah, yeah, yeah, no no, no no, me and you, right here, yup.
Pričaću poslednji jezik. Oh - ne, ne, slušam. Da, da, da, ne, ne, ne, ti i ja, baš tu, da.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
No, I'm with ya. I'm with ya!
Ne, tu sam. Tu sam!
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Or, imagine the lights are all off and a blue light is just shining in your face as you're laying on the bed. And I know some of you, like me, have dropped that phone right on your face.
Ili, zamislite da je ugašeno svetlo i plavo svetlo se presijava na vašem licu dok ležite na krevetu. Znam da su neki od vas, kao ja, ispustili taj telefon pravo na lice.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Or this one, right? Passenger seat freaking out, like, "Can you watch the road?" And for anybody that stood up, you speak the language that I like to call "the language of disconnection." It's been called the language of connection, but I like to call it the language of disconnection. I don't mean disconnection, I mean disconnection, human disconnection, disconnected from each other, from where we are, from our own thoughts, so we can occupy another space.
Ili ovaj? Suvozač paniči, u fazonu, "Možeš li da gledaš kuda voziš?" Za svakog ko je ustao, pričate jezik koji ja volim da zovem "jezik nepovezanosti". Zovu ga "jezik povezanosti", ali ja volim da ga zovem "jezik nepovezanosti". Ne mislim nepovezanosti, mislim nepovezanosti, ljudske nepovezanosti, nepovezanosti jednih sa drugima, sa mestom gde smo, sa sopstevnim mislima, da bismo mogli da zauzmemo drugi prostor.
If you're not standing, you probably know what it's like to feel left out.
Ako ne stojite, verovatno znate kako je osećati se izostavljenim.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
You probably -- you know what it's like when everybody's a part of something, and you're not. You know what it's like being the minority. And now that I'm speaking your language, I'm going to ask you to stand, since we're speaking the same language. Because I believe that language of being the minority is one of the most important languages you can ever speak in your life, because how you feel in that position of compromise will directly determine how you act in that position of power.
Vi verovatno - vi znate kako je kad su svi deo nečega, a vi niste. Znate kako je biti u manjini. I sada kada pričam vaš jezik, zamoliću vas da ustanete, pošto pričamo isti jezik. Zato što mislim da je jezik bivanja u manjini jedan od najvažnijih jezika koje možete pričati u životu, zato što vaše osećanje u toj poziciji kompromisa direktno će odrediti vaše ponašanje u poziciji moći.
Thank you for participating. If you'd take a seat, I want to speak one last language.
Hvala vam što ste učestvovali. Ako biste seli, hoću da pričam poslednji jezik.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
This one, you don't need to stand. I just want to see if you recognize it.
Za ovaj ne morate da ustajete. Samo hoću da vidim da li ga prepoznajete.
Most the girls in the world are complainin' about it. Most the poems in the world been written about it. Most the music on the radio be hittin' about it, kickin' about it, or rippin' about it. Most the verses in the game people spittin' about it, most the songs in the world, people talkin' about it. Most the broken hearts I know are walkin' without it, started to doubt it, or lost without it. Most the shadows in the dark have forgotten about it. Everybody in the world would be trippin' without it. Every boy and every girl will be dead without it, struggle without it, nothing without it. Most the pages that are filled are filled about it. ["It" = Love] The tears that are spilled are spilled about it. The people that have felt it are real about it. A life without it, you'd be lost. When I'm in it and I feel it, I be shoutin' about it. Everybody in the whole world knowin' about it. I'm hurt and broke down and be flowin' about it, goin' about it wrong 'cause I didn't allow it. Can the wound or scar heal without it? Can't the way that you feel be concealed about it? Everybody has their own ideal about it, dream about it, appeal about it. So what's the deal about it? Are you 'bout it to know that life is a dream and unreal without it? But I'm just a writer. What can I reveal about it?
Većina devojaka se žali na njega. Većina pesama je napisana o njemu. Većina muzike na radiju peva o njemu, ili repuje o njemu. Većina stihova pljuje o njemu, u većini pesama ljudi pričaju o njemu. Većina slomljenih srca koja poznajem šetaju bez njega, počinju da sumnjaju u njega, ili su izgubljeni bez njega. Većina senki u mraku zaboravila je na njega. Svi na svetu bi se spoticali bez njega. Svaki dečak i svaka devojčica bili bi mrtvi bez njega, mučili se bez njega, ništa bez njega. Većina punih stranica pune su njega. Prolivene suze prolivene su zbog njega. Ljudi koji su ga osetili svesni su. Život bez njega, bili biste izgubljeni. Kad sam u njemu i osećam to, urlam o tome. Svi na svetu znaju za njega. Povređen sam i slomljen i lelujam u vezi s njim, ponašajući se pogrešno, jer sam ga sprečio. Može li rana zarasti bez njega? Može li način na koji se osećate da ga sakrije? Svako ima sopstveni ideal o tome, sanja o tome, žali se na to. Dakle, u čemu je stvar sa njim? Da li hoćete da znate da je život san i nestvaran bez njega? Ali ja sam samo pisac. Šta ja mogu da otkrijem o tome?
Why is it that the most spoken-about language in the world is the one we have the toughest time speaking or expressing? No matter how many books, how many seminars, how many life-coaching sessions we go to, we just can't get enough of it. And I ask you now: Is that number that you had at the beginning, has that changed? And I challenge you, when you see someone, to ask yourself: What languages do we share? And if you don't come up with anything, ask yourself: What languages could we share? And if you still don't come up with anything, ask yourself: What languages can I learn? And now matter how inconsequential or insignificant that conversation seems at the moment, I promise you it will serve you in the future.
Zašto je jezik o kome se najviše priča onaj koji se najteže govori ili izražava? Bez obzira na to koliko knjiga, seminara, koliko lajf koučing sesija posetimo, nikad nam nije dovoljno. I pitam vas sada: onaj broj koji ste imali na početku, da li se promenio? I izazivam vas, kada vidite nekog, da se zapitate: koje jezike imamo zajedničke? I ako ne dođete ni do jednog, zapitajte se: koje jezike bismo mogli da delimo? I ako opet ne dođete ni do čega, zapitajte se: koje jezike mogu da naučim? I bez obzira na to koliko nedosledan ili beznačajan taj razgovor delovao u tom trenutku, obećavam vam da će vam koristiti u budućnosti.
My name is Poet Ali. Thank you.
Moje ime je Poet Ali. Hvala.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)