Rhythmically following tempos into darkened rooms within,
being blinded to surroundings.
Yet hearing music throughout, capturing passion and essence
in a bouquet of flowers freshly cut in an early morning.
Loving the aromas reaching this mind, writing of them and
feeling each of the individually.
Cooperating with intellect, all senses are gathered into
the mixture of imagination's beauty and factual landscapes.
Nothing taking away from it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
especially liked the first few stanzas of this poem :)