Listening to old tunes on a piano,
reminiscing about yesterday's events.
Taking aside images and focusing
them into tunnels of remembrance.
Filing and unfiling visions as they
come together on shores of beautiful
music.
A repertoire of existence always kept
in mind for lonely days, spent looking
at memories through rose-colored glasses.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem