Waking to beats of life, smiling quietly at the sun while writing poetry incessantly, keeping thoughts always in the forefront of an innate language of rhythms and their tempos.
Leaving many messages in piles of leaves that're raked up beneath imaginary trees, being mixed and blended in notes and tempos.
All the while sorting them out in lines and verses while writing them like crazy into poetry journals, filling every page with messages to be read by people the world over.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem