Amidst chaos and disaster, a simple story of love.

Linguistic Angel

Tragedy, horror, oh tragedy
Where is the foreign translator,
This patient is babbling furiously
And I am beginning to hate her,
She's decompensating, her heart is in failure
And she won't let us take off her clothes,
Diuretics have made her incontinent;
I'm by her side, holding my nose.

A pretty young lady, a linguist
Enters this scene of disaster,
She says a few words to the patient
Who responds in her language much faster,
She states, "All I have is a fever"
As she clutches her urine drenched pants,
The linguist is gasping for breath
As I assume a formidable stance,
With the help of another brave nurse
We approach clothed in full body plastic,
Our mission: to apply bladder drainage
Before the old lady gets spastic.

With the mission accomplished, I turn
To the linguist now on the floor,
The air must be fresher down there
Because she's doing the crawl, towards the door,
Before I can halt her departure
She has gone, without leaving her name,
I've been saved by this angel of language
And now my poor heart is aflame.

I called upon translator services
To discover the name of the lass,
But no one could match the description
Was it just an effect of the gas?
Some toxic ammonia illusion
My senses all out of control,
No, no, I just can not accept it
That girl had a body and soul.

Now I wander the miles of hallways
My purpose is clearly spectacular,
To find her and tell her I love her
That angelic girl of vernacular.


Fibril_late; 2/95