Walking, rocking to the melodies of a distant land that has
yet been open to other poets of a lifetime, images now smil-
ing like cheshire cats of old.
Touching the energy of classic beauty set in portraits of
rhythm, silently encased in intense desires of this poet's
heart and soul.
An awakening of sorts that never seems to end, flowing con-
stantly and incessantly into all hours of the day and into
wee hours of the night.
Pockets of wrinkles fading in an ageless destiny that never
ceases to open itself to the energy of this poet's intellect
through musical rhythms running through this mind, finding a
playground of imagination always ready to be played upon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem