Silencing etudes of yesterday, allowing novel melodies
to pierce my mind with new ideas.
Holding, dragging across many trails, walking away along
stanzas of fortitude.
Playing ivories with fervor and taunting precision,
following notes exactly as they are being written on
screens of talent, inside a mind of creative ingenuity.
Leaving behind many beats, tranquilly sitting on tracks
of locomotive steam.
(8: 48 p.m. - 11/28/09)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem