Beating drums into the night, collecting particles of
my interior being, tying together, fibers still hanging
mysteriously in my mind.
A mystical factor taking my forward, letting me go, free
and totally being captured by allowances of intellect,
falling into rockets taking off.
Seeing the universe from windows of this soul, a mere
poet traveling into outer space alone through my mind
while still here standing on earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem