Quietly retired, spent in many moments of agony, trifles
of great magnitude are scouring insides of a mind.
Precariously balanced, offset by the insistent anguish of
the past.
Performing arts, an inner gift of talent, trying to stay
afloat and not misinterpret another's language.
Truncated beyond all rhyme, situated cautiously, afraid
to live and let go of ancient history.
Banning an inner sanctuary for days at a time, hurtling
silence into it's deafening roar.
Solemnly transferring ageless faults and blame with a
shift in perspective and transference of attitude.
Life-giving essence is fixed on horizons of a higher
power and domain, no longer a part of what is going on
here on earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem