Watching the sky as it sets upon my mind doing nothing,
clouds have all disappeared, leaving it abandoned like
an interior mind at times.
Finding the incessant poetry that comes into my vision
from music in life every moment that I'm awake, even in
sleep still writing poetry and composing music.
When awakening having to grab a pen and write down what
I've thought in dreams and intellect through the night,
a wonderful passage, being measured in chords and time
of rhythms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem