Last song now being sung and played, sorry to see the
ending of this little concert here at the Wagon Yard,
our little bit of musical heaven here in Phoenix, Az.
Delightful, invigorating, filled with an awesome vital-
ity of incessant music, filtering through tunnels of
inspiration created by innate intelligence.
Seeing wonder and illusions of life as it revolves,
turning about, keys being pounded intensely, strings
strummed with instant pressures of fingers on frets.
Making beautiful music that everyone listens and dances
to, nothing like the rhythms here in the U.S.A, going
late into the night.
Penetrating sleep of all of us here, because this is
what we all prefer to be doing with our leisure time,
when free and at liberty to do what we want.
Spiraling like rocket ships and fireworks being shot
into the sky, exploding into notes that fall upon our
ears as we listen attentively all night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem