Extra mundane pioneers of deliverance creep alongside
mountainous edges, holding onto precarious niches for
hands and feet.
Wielding a sense of freedom inside, feeling daredevilly,
hanging in mid-air, not caring or thinking of any
untoward accidents happening this side of earth's
perimeter.
Losing all semblance of life as it's known, flying in
novel circular patterns, creating new mosaics and
puzzles being found within imaginative minds over time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem