There’s a stranger in my midst,
I do not know if there’s a twist.
Has he come to wake me from my slumber?
By playing a tango, a waltz or a rumba?
Will he put a swing in my stride?
Or maybe a dent in my pride?
Out of the obscure mist, he did appear
And yet gave me no reason to fear,
Instead I sensed some kind of peace
In the banal existence of my worldly sphere
In this Great Land which I hold dear.
He rode the Northern Star
And traveled from afar.
But his heart was already here
Close to mine, so very dear.
His course was guided by the Southern Cross
Towards the source of his longing.
This man of good repute
Whom I, for one, could not refute.
Such is fate that comes at a burning rate
And takes hold,
When all is said and told,
Of the most gentle of all emotion,
That which is known
As sweet devotion.