I think there is a delight that happens, at the edge of understanding, from trying to fill in the gaps and succeeding. You read (or hear) a sentence you don't quite comprehend, but you get the gist and the remained becomes very evocative. The more ways there are to interpret a phrase, the more intriguing it becomes.
I once translated Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream into an invented language for a (fairly polarizing) production. For the most part, audiences could follow the play--not understanding a word the actors spoke--from character, behavior, expression, intonation, costume, staging, etc. Typically when I direct a play, I watch opening night, and then I'm done. I've spent months with the text and weeks in rehearsal, and I want nothing to do with it once it's up. But this play I watched every night. I found it endlessly fascinating. I understood the actors' intention, but because the words were nonsense, I understood it slightly differently every time, making every performance fresh.
I once translated Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream into an invented language for a (fairly polarizing) production. For the most part, audiences could follow the play--not understanding a word the actors spoke--from character, behavior, expression, intonation, costume, staging, etc. Typically when I direct a play, I watch opening night, and then I'm done. I've spent months with the text and weeks in rehearsal, and I want nothing to do with it once it's up. But this play I watched every night. I found it endlessly fascinating. I understood the actors' intention, but because the words were nonsense, I understood it slightly differently every time, making every performance fresh.