Motorcycles riding individually to each rider's whims
and particular desires, usually hidden beneath life
and it's silent dreams.
Coming out from beneath hazy auras and beginning to
live down endless miles of a highway to destinations
unknown and never being able to be copied again in
this lifetime.
Carrying forward, all the beauty of interesting
pastimes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem