Mind clicking onto sounds of beautiful colors,
placing them innocently in depths of extra-
sensory perceptions.
Allowing a freedom of the mind to play and dis-
cover what is being covered within them, separa-
ting each of them as whispers of wind.
Fully beginning blowing, touching the intensity
of rhythms, taking care not to let them pass un-
noticed into a black hold, energizing and pulling
together rhythms that have wonderful memories.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem