A dance exotic,
The rhythm, a wonderful fluidity,
Ears that listen, an attention to behold
And the dance steps, a reverberating
Cannons of energy,
The lyrics was a masterpiece of forgery and its intention,
An assassination of personality,
Without pretense, the artistes aspire to the top,
Ignoring who they trample
upon their way to nothingness.
A dance exotically inhuman
From experience and intuition,
Eye decline from audience
For tomorrow you might become
A victim,
In this real world of inferiority complex
Where rockets of gossips set
our communion with God apart.
'1997'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem