Unhurried by the insistent voice of death and aging, standing
on the particular shore of my new horizon.
Choosing the fabric and style of an inner love, forever bound
to God within, solemnly taken in with the deluge of numerous misunderstandings.
Unknown poetry, stirring even now inside, finding just the
right way of expressing subconscious thoughts in ideal lines,
to touch the very essence of another person unlike myself.
Causing tears to fall, or watching a smile come into being,
that is the joy writing does for me.
It creates a joyous soul and sorrow's tears to be shared like
I never could myself with spoken words.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem