My neighbours like to line-dance in the street,
Pre-programmed moves an intricate, co-ordinated, feat
Bespeaking fellow feeling,
Going beyond the urge to meet
In cohort, and to strut their funky stuff
In a manner and with a vigour
That younger folk could hardly beat.
And their rhythms hover afterward,
An echo in the air,
And provoke the less-fit residents'
Unhappy capacity for despair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem