Sitting in the E.R., listening to Queen, feeling sadness
penetrating this mind with sorrow.
Tending to the incessant melodies of grief, being stranded
again on an unchartered island.
With nothing to keep me company, keeping gifts close, using
writing to continue carrying on.
Dense jungles growing around this little space, protecting
from all the distractions in surrounding areas.
Focusing continually on the sequence of events being recalled
in memories of intellect.
Never being watered down, they are always fully intensified
in depths of being.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem