Listening to notes climb up and down, going faster and
faster, making my fingers fly, playing the piano in my
mind while writing rapidly with my right hand.
Rhythms filling me with pleasure and rhymes, nothing
else to be heard now in the middle of this night.
Music drumming with a whining sounding instrument, all
rotating and conceiving the birth of another poem right
this minute.
Allowing persistent rhythmical staccato beats to take me
into dense forests of India where finding life is becoming
simpler.
Easing the stress and strain of daily living, an inexhaust-
able aroma filling the atmosphere where this mind dares to
travel, wending it's way through the culmination of innate
talent.
Being rooted within the undergrowth of an intelligent
being of a poetical nature.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem