You've got to have some rhythm if you're going to boogie down. At the latest tango hotspot at the Roxy in the town. The principles of foxtrot and the sways of swing will show. That dancing with your heart will always make your passion flow.
When the bossa nova starts and the lady sings the blues. The time is now to shake your hips and don your dancing shoes. You trip the light fantastic, your shoulders shake in time. Your fingers snap and feet will tap along to mambo rhyme.
The rumba stirs the frenzy of your heart in Latin beats. You feel the crazy samba in the footsteps on the streets. Your ready for your spotlight doing cha cha cha and jive. You can never stop the lindy hop to keep your soul alive.
It seems like the entire world knows how to dance except for me.
There must be a metronome that ticks the tempo right out of the torso of Mother Nature herself but I cannot seem to tune in. Everywhere around me I can see a rhythm that refuses to run through me like it somehow knows that I am always going to be that one kid left standing with my back against the gym wall and the beat is just another club that cannot afford to let any losers in.
I see the leaves—crisp hues of yellow-bleeding-into-orange, orange-bleeding-into-brown— being directed by the air that they cut as they learn to dance the American Waltz left box, right box, underarm turn, hesitation step spinning to the ground and swell approaches the shore carrying forward a small roar, energy circling from deep to shallow, waves shoaling, rising up, moving along to the Foxtrot feather step, three step, natural turn, hover cross uncurling onto the shore.
But still, after all of these years, I am here with shoulder blades pressed to cinderblocks trying to tap into the meter while I tap my toe inside of my shoe so the mountains will not shed rocks like tears that come along with steady laughter.
She sang the trot like she owned the narrative, as if she was singing about her inner most secret.
-The lady who lost her lover The place where she met him The Place with the Camellia flower
It was a place of summer and ray bloomed while it matched the radiance of the two Paramour and a reminder of their internal chest thumped in unison
In the street where they first met she stood alone fatigued with no more breath to give Many nights shed her tears by the Camellia flowers
Now the flower leave crumbled The petals showed it's red bruises and falling like the tear drops
When will the lover come back to her To the lonely Camellia Flower When will he come back-
The song ends with a grasp as this German lady song ends with her whisper To the Korean Trot song of the past
To the song "Lady Camellia!"
Not to get confused with the 1848 published French Novel "The Lady of the Camellias," or better known for "La Dame Aux Camelias!"
As I was web surfing in youtube, I came across a Korean Talk show, and in it she sang the old Korean pop song genre called Trot! Mesmerized by how well she spoke in Korean, this German lady singing even in Korean old trot song.
I took liberty to translate the lyric the way it seemed to fit perfectly, so I can't take any credits!
Updated notes: After doing several research, there maybe a correlation between the Old Korean trot to the even older French novel! While the music gives more of a story of two lovers and the anguish of the lady, the French novel actually makes the Lady Camellia as a courtesan. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpmWwvWWXPA