In an amphitheater,
star and attendee,
my own private show,
lights are low,
chords strike simple,
simply striking,
a melancholy tune,
echoing within,
reverberating without,
plucking gentle my strings,
of softly nerves,
soulfully I play,
an audience for one,
under skies of no sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem