Rocking to thrills of another evening here at the Wagon Yard,
being amongst friends and strangers alike, all of us with an
intense love of music.
Dancing and rhythm, pain and hurting a thing of the past, as
we sway and sing in measures of ultimate rhythmic reviews,
sounding out loudly, creating fundamental spaces.
They stand the test of time as we continue to rock and roll
into the night, taking an energy with us that never dies or
disappears.
Hurting so good, finding our way through mazes in life here
on earth, requests falling by the wayside as melodies keep
falling into the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem