Minor chords of reality quiver and tremble, touching depths
and abysses of sorrow's lengths.
Coarsing music along ocean waves, cresting, ebbing, crashing
with emotional turmoil.
Sending all concerns hither and yon, belonging to interior
selves, not wanting to enter circles of people, preferring
only to spend time alone with gifts of God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem