Beneath the heat of the dancing feet,
I hear the voice of one calling
I hear it far away
So far away
That I knew it was so close to my heart.
I hear the sound
A tiny little frightening sound,
So strong but so tender
Like that of a singing sea wave
That made path through the crowd to see
And tearing open the melodious heart of a loving mother.
I hear the chanting of a song
Whose rhythm appease the curious ears of an already born deaf old dancer
And employing the feet of a lame to rock
If only I was a dancer,
My feet would have created a circle like a carnival.
And since I couldn’t sing as well, this song of a voice shall stale in my heart forever.
Now that the wind is still
And the moon is full
the stars refuse to lie fair
And all is still again
I wish for a sound,
that same old rhythmic sound!
If only I can hear that melancholic screeching sound of no retreat
That sound that only draws closer to love that hate!
That sound that soothing the passion of pain even while memories are fresh!
That sound of affection!
That sound of attention!
That sound of expression!
That voice of echoes of a crying child that draws the total love of a mother to her child once again!
That screeching but tender voice of a crying baby.
That cry of love.