Touching soothingly, heart strings of sorrowful music
being played within at any given moment in time.
Life stranded on outsides of subconsciousness, shadows
awaiting realizations of inner rhythms and rhymes.
Allotting seconds to alight from inner sanctums, cold
and damp from years of interior crying.
Holding onto lasting memories, never letting go to
become a dry, arid, dust-like being, feeling nothing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem