Living in a quandry, relating to no one on earth, belonging solely to self and never wavering from central points of view.
Tossing beliefs into positive avenues of solicitation, carrying all pieces of puzzles to form pictures in a mind of patterns.
Kept totally in an isolated conclave, away from all prying eyes, carefully tending to any thought of demise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem