Jumping, fighting many inclinations to turn and
run way into lonely forests, instead of staying
in crowds of people.
Tending to want to increase time alone, isolating
self to write, yet, here I sit, listening to the
intense rhythms of musical interludes.
Happy and partially isolated while writing into
these many poems, as forms fall into atmospheres
of design.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem