Resting uneasily, using my mind to keep me focused on
writing poetry, being and feeling so sick.
Listening to music as it takes me soaring into pleasures
of rhythm where I am happy and contented.
Far away from the stress of sickness, living in a forward
motion of tempos as they keep me alive.
This mind continuing to focus in spite of everything,
giving an interior energy derived from spirituality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem