Whispering souls
My ancestors' sounds
In a room alone
My fingers pick out strain stones
Devaluing jewels of my mind
When caress fingerboard vibrant
Melodies appease my swing heart
When bow pushes strings soft
Cleaning wind blows into my room
When I play the Kamancha
Opening window to my soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem