Continually on a mission of quietly spoken words,
always written on blank paper, coaxing all manner
of words into meanings of my own.
Calling spirits from nighttime beds of roses,
wanting them to form gardens from within, so people
can select or choose the flowers of poetry that
they want to read.
Many volumes of poetry that I've written through
the years are kept securely in books, blank until I
filled them all with my thoughts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem