Ecstasy mounting with every reverberation
reaching my ears and relating every item of sadness.
Totaling additions of tomorrow's signals,
bleeding into periods of echoing silence.
Being tuned to particular patterns and designs
of poetical musing.
Catching up with rhythms, seeing them form so many
words in pages of poetry and an interior essence of
lifetime's positive attitudes.
Falling forward, seething with an anger from past
pictures, once known in lucid details.
Searching for samples of rhythm, taking me into
canyons of survival.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem