Standing in the silent wake of evening as it unfolds in
the darkness of nighttime dreams, matching thoughts with
lightening speed.
Wanting to transfer their innocence and purity into deep-
est thoughts of tranquility, totally escaping into fertile
measures of life and rhythm.
No thoughts of failure or doubt, subjects taking a stand
in intellect where they find their way in the blessedness
of a holy realm given only by God.
Feverishly unfolding and tackling songs of sadness and
sorrow as they sing silently like a harp in a midnight
breeze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem