Beating rhythms taking me along river banks, mirroring a forest of tangled pines.
Tossing many thoughts into a pile of scenic portrayals, watching to see which one will prevail and commit locomotive functions.
Certain designs appear and become invisible in moments of time.
Relatively finding rhythm's somehow penetrating the solace of tomorrow's spaces.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem