Evenings still as a placid lake, rock me into dreams of yesterday when I was younger.
Tell-tale mornings offering vestiges of an opportunity to be a quiet talent on earth.
Screaming in silent words on paper, developing sincere thoughts.
Delivering many ideas to people all over the whole world.
Choosing the words from a photographic memory screen, holding onto every picturesque memory held inside my mind.
Focusing with an intensity that heightens elliptical nighttime songs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem