Swishing down back roads of another time, giving past
dreams a chance of resurgence, hoping they will appear
entirely.
Taking me into the mysteries of yesterday while falling
into tempos of tomorrow, watching others rush back and
forth, not touching effervescent liveliness of rhythms.
Soaring through the skies, going heavenward, not looking
back, finding eerily brilliant mystics, lasting in the
quiet silence of another midnight talk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem