Living on imagination, floating with billowy clouds
across the heavens, tantamount to miracles of young
hearts.
Practicing rhymes, bouncing them back and forth,
grasping and releasing them in separate moments of
time.
Spaced just so, running with the wind, relishing
delicate tastes in my mind.
Never withholding musical rhetoric, as writing
becomes who I am in everyday situations and
circumstances.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem