Picking at a guitar as it perks up this being through
many rhythms, succumbing to the time being spent along
edges of shores and horizons.
Ones that have all but disappeared in this early morning
twilight, reawakening hopes and dreams incessantly while
music continues to rock and roll, enjoying this poetical
mind and intellect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem