Slab-flat vowels like a block of dough
slapped down on the kneading board;
sibilant aromas of spice and fruit from afar off
mingle with crisp consonants.
Syllables roll like oranges through
the early morning marketplace; polyphonic
strangers drawn by the guttural growl
of hunger and homesickness.
So long lost in translation, the tongue
is astonished by the sudden taste of home.