The foreign bird
I knew him well trying to blend in
Speaking the language too flawlessly
So, the embarrassment when he
On occasions, got it wrong.
It was not his mother tongue so
His speech was too slow and learned.
Made the language into disharmony
In a country where people speak
The tongue with a certain insouciance.
He, although people are polite, hasn’t
Got many friends they sense, I think,
His tragic loneliness like an echo
Of a country, he left behind that he
Instead of embracing his otherness
Tried to hide it.