Crawling through the sky, lit with illumination from the moon.
Giving a yell and riding into the night with a promise of returning one day.
Living on the range, taking pictures in my mind, savoring their textures and reflections as I write them down in a pattern of exquisite taste.
Never going back, sololy moving through the sky alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem