They call you a foreigner
As you understand not our nativity
Of culture, thought, tradition, idea, image,
Language, culture of ours,
But the heart of mine calls you not,
You are the same womankind
Full with the milk of kindness,
You are the same serving us
In our households
As mother, sister and beloved.
They call you, call you a foreigner
As they understand not your society and culture,
Language and tradition,
Nor have they visited,
Nor have known and felt them
And when unable to understand your words, speeches and manners,
They calling you a foreigner
But it is love which draws close to
The strangers and foreigners
And as thus love is born.
I know not any of your tongues,
Just can feel you,
Understand you
The mental set-up of yours,
What you mean to communicate,
Say to
And reveal
All through your gestures,
So mildly, so humbly,
Struggling to make me understand,
You taking time,
I taking time to understand
Our exchange of feelings and emotions.
Foreigner girl, where dwell you,
On which seaside or riverside,
On which seashore or the riverbank,
Live you,
How the manner, language, culture and society,
Tradition, living and life-style
Of yours and your lands,
You tell me, tell me and make it understand
As I know them not.
I just feel you, feel you,
Feel and imagine you,
Try to read your emotions and feelings,
Gestures, signs and symbols,
Your mental set-up and make-up,
Your social background,
The compulsions of geographical boundaries and barriers
And their climatic impacts,
Your history, art and culture,
Your faith and doubt and suspense,
Your frank and bold stance
And the nobility of yours,
Your daring enterprise and the flair for travels and tours.
I may not understand your face, colour, complexion,
Attire and apparel,
Your language and words,
But the eyes and the heart hint it all,
Your language the language of the heart,
The language of love,
What my heart feels, your heart feels,
What it says, the same it too says it,
The poetry of the heart,
The poetry of love,
The language of the heart and the soul.