Incessantly being taken aback at the level of intensity
within which I respond to rhythms being listened to.
Wondering every time how it is done while writing, no
answer is ever found as I continue to do what I love.
So beautiful, the feelings that arise within, stirring
up love at the same time.
Seeing everything in many visions as they are portrayed
on interior photographic screens.
Wonder abounding in every corner of this mind, continuing
to see images, writing of them constantly.
Never leaving any of them out, because they all count in
the end, as part of each coded rhythm being spelled out on
every page of verse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem