Living in the blanket mystery of life, looking about, seeing
clues, writing them all down, finding aspects of whatever
appears.
Altering, aligning their appearance while translating rhythms
into poetry automatically and incessantly, watching in a very
methodical way as intellect takes each step.
Going instantaneously into realms of innate knowledge, writing
rapidly as ideas form thoroughly, coming to fruition silently,
taking no time at all, effortlessly bringing everything to-
gether at the ending of this life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem