Never leaving the interior side of intellect, fixating on my mind, recalling everything I've ever done in life.
Unsolicited material always at my beck and call, never adjusting or aligning attitudes to keep it flowing.
Sensing the wilderness floating just below the surface, giving me expressions no one else can fathom.
Left to only one person to write as quickly as I can to rhythm's benefit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem