Standing on high, listening to a trumpet solo, erect
with staccato rhythm, penetrating a mind with it's
tone and depth, soaking into this being.
Languidly listening, feeling it thrill an inner
picture of musical destiny with sublime interest and
intent focus.
Tapping easily and flowing musically, notes attune
themselves to the creativeness of my soul, bringing
enjoyment to it.
Long lastingly beautiful and wondrous on a saddened
morning in time, just moments from glory's infinite
reminders.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem