Segregating ideas are milling around, straying away
at times to find fulfillment in other ways.
Lashing themselves to imagination's wild rides,
slipping and sliding frontwise while listening to
sounds from beyond mortal life.
Tantalizing all seven senses, while becoming a form
of life on an eighth plain.
All is suddenly silent as truth whisperingly echoes
from one horizon to those beyond.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem