Feet-tapping rhythm picking up my heart and turning
it over in my mind with solitude covering it quietly.
Hiding it carefully, preserving it for my little
eternity of life.
Penetrating corners of subconscious imagination,
creating an everlasting memory to dance closely with.
Books in time will never have the emotional truth
and feeling a simple image in time can give.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem