Rubbing eyes of fallen sleeps,
But awaken poems
Rocking my boat from
pushing and shoves
to around my toes.
Of flying pencil and papers
chasing sweats,
as from this devouring mind
punching the clock
of how many lines before tomorrow forgets.
Within lines of poetic inks
to never let goes of see you later,
Closer than ever,
grasping my mind with insanity papers.
A writing agony of self controlling harmony
till this never ending trend,
it will always come back again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem