Silently heading south into motions of tidal waves
as they foam and crash against rocks and jagged jetties.
Insisting on shadows creating new despotic characters
and sending many prisms into collections of art.
Stencils popping onto plains of creative literature,
promising plaintive cries at midnight hours.
Watching gratefully, acknowledging intellectual
forbearance and hopeful faith in generosity.
Sensational products of future promises, grading
themselves with clarity and existing in auras of
extravagance.
Listlessly following avenues set in sand along
indifferent pathways of fate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem