Beating slowly, reaching into depths of being, realizing
there's more than what meets the eye.
Listening to the coded messages and writing according to
what visions appear in imagination.
Collecting all the notes and tempos, creating formulas
with the stroke of a pen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Or the clack of keyboards, singing like birds in Poet trees.