With no cracks the racks of the soul surfacing and resurfacing the depth of the soul. With no remembrance and memory of the rhythmic rewind and unwind of the cassette tapes. Not televise or revise of the writings the lost phrases of the sounding and resounding tunes that forward and rewind life. The shuffle and reshuffle of cassette tapes toiling upon the soil and the floor with passion and affection. The love of nature and nurture of the intake and partake of nature. The interior walls that sounded the outcry the loud and aloud of emotions and thoughts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem