Falling into living rooms of interior thought,
gathering together and listening to all manner
of tones and attaching them to rhythms of
intense motion.
Forging beats onto moments of life, lived
through periods of infamous talent as it moves
toward future horizons.
Beginning on shores of death, awaiting us all
in last days of our sunsetical demise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem