Listening to lights as they rotate on the dance floor,
lonely, twirling, giving senses a wonderful turn of
events.
Holding onto rewards of another tomorrow, awaiting
depths of life to be upheld and taken in turn, rolling
down inner streets of racism.
Not wanting to hear the cries of those who have been
hurt by other's hatred and intolerance, quietly existing
in an inharmonious seclusion.
Nothing to help or touch their loneliness and utter empti-
ness, watching, gliding onto abandonment always found on
steps of yesterday, alone, tempting egos of other men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tomorrow is waiting holding the reward with dance in floor with amazing mood....10