I am sorry

servants'

I am sorry you a man with a black face
I thought you were a thief
I thought you’d steal my mobile
You reminded me of my neighbour once
Who was a thief

I am sorry you a man with a white face
I thought you were a proud snob
Full of pseudo-intellectual soup
You reminded me of my professor long ago
Whom I hated and who hated me

I am sorry you a man with a bronze face
I thought you were in love with me
Melting down with your coffee smiles
You reminded me of my fancy long ago
With whom I was in love with once

I am sorry you a man with a flat face
I thought you sell some cheap goods
I thought you have a restaurant where
At the back door some stolen phones are dealt
You reminded me of a China man in London who bought my goods

I am sorry you a woman with a pen
I thought you were a writer
I thought you could write
You reminded me of myself
Whom I knew as myself
Who wanted to write
For she could not speak out
Even though she had a lot to say

2014.05.12

*Language*

2014.11
2014.11

I got hurt by the sound of ‘oh’
Then I got hurt by the sound of ‘ah’

Each language has a special something
Each says things of their own

I have a special relation with each of them
In English, with the predicates
In Korean, with the adjectives
In French, with the homonyms
In Arabic, with the roots
In an imaginary language, with the capability of understanding one another

If I had to write something in French,
I would say some thing like,
‘au bord de la riviere’

It comes naturally, that is the language
It comes fluently, that is the poetry
It comes unexpectedly, that is love

2014.11.22

spiel troubles travels and art

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