Music turning pages of this mind, reciting volumes of
memories that have never been forgotten, always being
held, moving into the center of this temporary life.
All filled with purpose and an innocent sphere of time
that's been purified throughout this life interiorly,
a thoughtful, prayerful life of faith.
One giving this poet an interior life that has become
a place of spirituality with no room for anything else,
that's exactly the way this mere poet wants it to stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem