University of Malta

There are some fools, sunk now
Off Antikythera,
Who thought they knew something
About how our world works.
I hereby refute them!

Not on parchment or bronze,
Not on silver or gold,
Not on titanium
Gas-jetted to the stars
Do I sign this degree.

Upon the beating heart
Of heartless history,
Among dead and dying
Languages, I consign
Thee: Master of Maltese.

What? Not yet put at ease?
You want proofs to disprove
Your proofs the world began
With you and yours, not me
And my fond progeny?

Enough! I understand
What you can never know:
I and my kind are old
At birth, you and your kind
Young when you die, you fool!