Silently pensive moods taking me into a pondering
state of acquiescence, finding knowledge of supposed
inner talents that are always hidden.
Popping up only when they feel the urge to do so,
nothing ever bursting into the cycle of things, unless
first being thought of.
Rocking and rolling into the morning sun, finding an
energy that keeps rising into the afternoon, nothing
barring their way, allowing freedom to continue reigning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem