Mysteries of being find their way into deep thoughts,
delving into abysses of subconscious realms.
Stirring bits of anger and mixing them with reminiscent feelings of past treasured moments, alone in a tranquil poverty of riches, tattered and forlorn, straying to
outskirts of menial precision.
Details escaping clarity of realistic functions and
playing on emotional tides, surfing along windows of
adversity, properly being tied in with abstract
abilities.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem