Abstract
ABSTRACTThe triumph of the language of the U.S.A.'s president is deeply connected to the paradoxical insularity of English: a language perceived to be universal but which in fact limits its ability to converse—it forgets that the blood of any language is translation. Translators know well that their job is the best way to put an end to walls. But maybe the walls around the English language reveal the kind of language that is the language of the forty-fifth president—the president of the Wall—in a deeper sense.
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