Lata Sings a Love Song
I should have kept it –
the tongue I grew up with,
the language of my mother
and her mother before her
Not so much for my own sake
as for my daughter’s, and
for the sake of the songs
I carried with me when we left
All else may be passed on
in a foreign tongue;
the stories, the memories, but
the songs won’t stand the tampering,
the tweaking, the translating
Listen to this one, I say
Isn’t it beautiful?
Glancing at her sideways,
one eye on the road,
my voice hopeful
They all sound the same
she says, tossing it aside
We are quiet then
for the rest of the ride
while in the background
Lata sings a love song
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