Language of signs flow before my sight, softened,
gentle, caressing my soul with beautiful feelings
of yesterday and it's meaning.
Swaying explicitly in melodies of future desire,
entertaining pleasurable forays of insight.
Tracing intellect into avenues of creative
subconscious beliefs, taking everything together
and placing it in puzzles of answers for tomorrows
stations in life.
Awaiting fragrances of long-standing visions,
being sprayed with roses, covering all decadent
motives with recriminating evidence of forgetfulness
in eternal slumber.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem