Waiting and listening to music with both sides of this brain and mind, not knowing how it's being done, just always picking up a pen and writing poems one after another.
A pleasant and delightful way to thing and create in rapid ways of succession, sequences coming together with an innate development automatically.
Seeing and writing everything down while listening to rhythms closely and letting this mind go far into depths of being, immersed in a brilliant bluened light.
Never seeing or hearing anything, just being in the beauty of rhythms automatically being created, instruments going faster, being added as melodies never slow down.
A wonderful and creative time being had no matter where this poet is or goes, a silent and intense feeling of doing and accomplishing truths and facts of life.
They're being told through the wonder and curiosity of an innate and intense curiosity, music now playing with mind and intellect in an inspiring and exemplary way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem