The undulating rhythm
of a call to prayer
floating
serenading
on the edge of the old world
yearning
a mass of longing to reach out and
touch the void, to feel the calmness
of serenity flowing over my mind
History begins to unfold as
a peace
washes over me, whilst
sitting on a porch,
in Asia
with jazz notes
floating blue in my mood
Hopeful of my return
I release these prayers into the humid
atmosphere of Byzantine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem