Whispering and listening to angels sing within gardens of
heaven, being tantalized and allured into writing of
poetry.
Letting inspiration fill me again, and again, never being
bored, always able to use this mind to keep imagination
attuned to an infinite wisdom of intellect.
Turning about, rotating, grasping abstracts from out of
ideas, making them fit automatically in words and meanings.
Wanting to change everything that comes about while
thinking and writing, never tiring of inventive ideas,
watching as they turn into a reality of poetry for my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem