Sounds of people clapping in the darkness here in the
Wagon Yard, prepping everyone for the fire that Johnny
Cash kept burning into the future.
Feeling his energy and seeing his image on an interior
photographic screen that'll never let go of his animated
face as he sang that blazing song with an intense energy.
Bringing everyone into the firelight, everyone loving the
rhythm as it continued to circle us in the fire of his
burning desire, rocking and rolling into the night, no
one wanting to stop.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem