This is a connoisseur’s world,
a society with a bitter tongue
that has no taste for romance.
This is an editor’s world,
with a ring in its nose and a red disposition
to charge at the cape of emotion.
It’s alright, I understand,
that anvil round your neck prevents you;
forged by a blacksmith who never learnt to love.
This is a foreign world;
these words are not of your language.