Все меньше тех вещей, среди которых ...

.
I speak both Russian and English,
I read in Polish and French,
and my Ukrainian might be called fair
if truth can survive such a stretch.
I revel in useless knowledge
and dabble at verbal chess.
So who am I?
Guess.

I come from a limestone city
on a post-deluvian beach
and my children won’t master its jingling speech,
for it’s not a thing you can teach.
But I hear its lateral grammar
making offers I can’t refuse.
So is that me?
Choose.

So what am I:
a tilt of a head,
a ricochet of a thought?
the force of entropy wants me dead
and harmony wants me not,

my bones change to the very marrow
every time someone says my name,
and whatever language I speak tomorrow
will probably be the same.

(с)