Ringing in my ears, trying to keep up with rhythm's
delectable sounds and tones, surrounding my mind
with pleasure.
Relegating interior motives, calming their reserves
for tomorrow's spacious new creativeness.
Filtering endless patterns of language, fitting them
into frames of grammar with curves of nature.
Becoming words in strident clauses and terse notations
of expression.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem