Here at the Sicilian Butcher listening to Cold Front, a fantastic
band that we've followed from Wagon Yard where everyone was treat-
ed badly, firing the band just because they were the new owners.
Now totally enjoying hearing the lead guitar with another guitar
player and keyboard also, all playing into nighttime rhythms, go-
ing quickly in the darkness blaring in musical terms.
Absolutely a terrific sound to write too, a pleasure that fills
us with an encouraging pathway in this life, energizing and let-
ting melodies take us in hand.
Writing incessantly to musical avenues that are so wonderful and
teasingly vibrant through the night, extending tantalizing measures
that continually taunt a poetical brain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem