Being a musician, playing lilting carrying melodies
above heads of audiences.
Tantalizing ears with quiet notes of splendor while
beating staccotoely, rhythms of innocent poetry.
Sitting on sidelines of seashores awaiting tides of
etudes to come and begin every moment of life under
bridges of supercilious images.
Beating minds of clay, forming them into pools of
loveliness, wrapped in lace of tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem