Drummer beating loudly, pounding those sticks into this
atmosphere tonight, making statements of a life that was
once caught up in a loving encounter.
Moving on, not looking back, surrounded only by memories
that've been twisted and turned into many mistakes that
have been made nothing to ever correct any of them.
That route being totally trodden over, nothing to hold on-
to, reaching for nothing because music has tied up reflec-
tions in strands of lights burning brightly into the night,
both lonely and crying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem