Motion being propelled by rhythms of a live band,
playing right before me, lapsing into a daydream
dressed in a nightmare's haunting stares.
Finding the stance of a righteous pilgrim, taking
me into the reservoir of life's intense atmosphere
finding no beginnings only endings.
Tell-tale signs and omens penetrating an interior
shell, giving all types of individual parodies by
which to follow through a back door.
Racing and stepping backwards, turning and twisting
into the solace of another time, taken aback by the
instrumental tastes of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem