Missing pieces no longer fitting in the puzzles of
yesterday's emotions.
Leaving them in caverns, allowing them to disappear
into the fabric of life.
Walking into depths of every particular framework of
life and it's perfect stance.
Walking and riding onto the distant future, alone in
the streets of another time.
Keeping the rhythm of each measure in perfect timing
and never letting go of any of the shapes that have
been voiced.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem