Walking along river banks, feeling calm, listening to
rapids slip bubbling by.
Keeping quiet and silent, no one else around, because
I am alone within my mind.
It's the only place that peace and serenity can be
found, important attitudes that are needed to live a
separate poetic life.
Living in a desert of inner selection, not wishing to
be a part of anything else in this world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Everyone has their sanctum, artists and writers need it, it provides a healing hand from the symptoms of life's maladies, for me Existentialism came about because of the post industrial cut-off of the natural world. The last part can be seen as both sad and liberating, your free to be who you are in your sphere but at the expense of human connection, I like the duality of it, I'll go with the positive that the inner selection, although its interesting you call it a desert, at least its not a grave.