Sounding melodies strumming a mind in perfect pitch,
taking it on travels over mountains and into deserts
where life can transpire and become what is read in
poetry.
Coming alive every time, being read even when this
poet has finally died.
Conclusions will have already been written down for
you to realize descriptions that have been chosen to
decorate the final days of one's own existence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem