Jets soaring above seeming to skim right across the mountain-
sides, looking so sleekly and beautiful in the skyways of my
mind.
Clouds hanging loosely from above, grazing in intellect,
waiting for their beauty to fall between the pages of poetry
that's being written.
Absolute silence taking it's part in this poem by bringing
self into imagination's realms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem