Like in a trance, we write,
Not knowing how, not knowing why,
Certain words just seem to fly,
From the Heart,
Like a magical harp,
Whose strings are touched,
We play, we write,
Beyond logic, Beyond love,
Beyond life, Beyond Time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, writing is a trance, a rapture, something that has to be poured out of our wombs and limbo... * *