The same people who tell me
That I should speak my native tongue
Are sometimes those
Who act like they would rather have been born somewhere else.

“You’re Maltese
Speak the language.”

You don’t hear me asking you
To speak a language
You can’t express yourself in,
Do you?

My use of language
Should not bother you so much.

Can you understand me?
Then what’s the problem?

Why should I not
Accommodate those among us
Who can’t actually speak Maltese?

Why should I tangle myself
And bend over backwards
To speak a language
I have trouble writing out?

Or would you rather
I break my fingers
Trying to find the proper placing
Of the għ or the h?

I am proud of my country.

I am proud of the history
That flows in all of us
And makes us who we are –
Borgs,
Mifsuds,
Camilleris,
Zammits,
Vellas –
And whether I use the word
‘Ħobż’ or ‘bread’
Makes no difference
To how it’s eaten anyway.

U jekk inti taħseb
Li nitkellem bl-Ingliż
Għax ma nafx il-lingwa tagħna biżżejjed…
Mela ħares lejn kif qegħda nikteb bħalissa.
Jien nafu il-Malti,
Daqs l-Ingliż.
Affari tiegħi kif nitkellem.

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