Looking into a back corner where a D.J. sits,
monitoring his karaoke machine.
Keeping songs in line to be sung by people
waiting for their turns.
Lifting spirits into heights of unknown
mysteries, still unheard from any direction,
finding places in the back corner of a dimly-
lit room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a fine poem.