Highlights of nighttime come out in brilliantly lit memories
as they're being expressed in poetry all the while, being
studied by a poetical mind in depths of every note played.
Adjusting, adapting with the florescent beauty that flitters
about like a firefly in the night just like being back east
in New Jersey.
We'd run around trying to catch and hold the fireflies lights
in a jar, later setting them free because we knew what it
felt like to be free, we didn't want them to die in captivity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem