Countless dreams, vary in scenes, a fine, silver-line between memory and fantasy
Each moment manifests a different plain to rest the tail of an incomparable, natural power that distresses
Many of importance and significance to the objective and subjective mind placed within it's relevance
To the universe, death and birth, comparitive worth, is a waste in each turn of the earth
So unbound by the sounds of distracting crowns of falsely owned ground
A leap is made with no dismay, with a reassurance in the smile that everything is ok
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem