swift ruin
The language escapes my ears—
I feel the words in my torso,
The groove in my brisk walk,
The song underneath my breath.
Who cares if it's foreign?
The rhythm invites you to dance—
Yeah, I get your stance.
You don't understand it at all,
It resonates every bone,
Every floor, in Russian and German.
I shall profuse 'Spasibo' and 'Danke'—
To you, brave eclectic foreign artisan.
charred horizon