Sacrosanct thoughts sitting in reflections of my mind,
cogitating, lying out in the open, awaiting the moment
when they will be written into a poem.
Thinking about their possibilities and how they will
be received when others come and read them.
Will their messages be clear and concise, will they
have meaning for the person who is reading them?
Poetry standing alone, timid and shy, until someone
looks upon it's words for the first time.
Either tears form in their eyes, or a smile of under-
standing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem