Giving in to rhythms that fall around, , gathering speed,
racing all over the entire atmosphere where they are then
caught up in minds of poets and musicians throughout the
night.
Feeling their energy as they continue to bounce and turn
around, wanting to keep on finding delicate whispers of
sound as they keep gathering colors, standing on them as
they fall upon the floor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem