Feelings of enticing moods keep contributing to the intensity
of a life being well-lived, always moving about, picking up
melodies on shores of an absolute table of measures.
Always being served up by a band called Cold Front here at
the Wagon Yard, twitteling up and down strings of a guitar,
taking center stage, filling it with patriotic pride.
Loving our nation with all our hearts, listening to rhythms
that take us into conversations of patriotism and a lively
melody of freedom and liberty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem