Strutting like a peacock in the wild, finding anticipation
rising higher within, riding waves of an interior climax,
taking me away with fleeting memories.
Seeing them coming into the light, shaping images and pictures-
que beauty with every thought matching up with rhythm, forging
music of poetry into journals of writing throughout the coming
days and nights.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem