Sensing an intensity of sorrow lying in beds of emotions,
filling me enthusiastically with a sadness that is bitter-
sweet, trying to take over my being.
Listening to rhythms, not allowing it to happen, recog-
nizing it's placement within, experiencing it's pain and
suffering as it whispers to me.
Letting it flow through me like a river, never stagnant
or staying long within my heart, needing that space so
I can feel the effervescent totality of intellect.
It's respectable information letting sorrow have it's
voice for periods of time only, so I may still live
life on my own terms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem