Playing the piano in my mind rapidly, solidly and happily
while writing.
Strange thoughts are dropping from rhythms and being placed
into many sentences altogether fascinating.
Collecting and energizing landscapes of many yesterdays,
climbing to tomorrows that may never come.
Yet, hope lives on in intellect that all of life will
continue.
Beatitudes being plied within beads of thought, are taken
gently and silently into depths of another world.
Listening and becoming future moments in time, bringing
fruition and interior solace into a perspective of total
concentration to be written from.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem