Loving to listen to rock and roll, finding an unending
plethora of songs at the Hideaway.
Combing through and holding onto every one of them in
poetry while continuing to listen and roam throughout
this atmosphere of delightful freedom bikers.
So many differences, yet similarities abound right
alongside of them.
Measures and measures of music, continue to fill this
mind with rapid thoughts, immediately, instantaneously,
finding their way into poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I may be wrong about this, but it seems to me that bikers live a very external life, whereas you and I (and other poets) live significantly internal lives. So it is remarkable that you can wrap your mind around their very different life and without condescension or shock write about their lifestyle as one of integrity. You see in their quest for freedom something you can applaud. Within the context of your poem and the actual contact with bikers that informs I am convinced of this integrity, but I am not persuaded to acknowledge a lifestyle centered on machines, speed (and that other speed, amphetamines) , and gasoline consumption! Kudos to you, Roseann, for seeing beyond these biases that cloud my viewpoint.