Thinking back, relaxing in a revelry of imagination, dreaming of extraordinary feats of intense soliloquy, pretending to be interested in a quality of interior essences.
Yet, really lolling around, waiting to find an escape into a land of wonder and fulfillment under the guise of writing.
Lilting tones, managing to filter into scores of notes as they play unendingly in my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem