We are like instruments,
Unique; percussion, wind, stringed…
Our moods are the keys:
We can be happy, sad, angry,
express so many emotions.
Tell a story,
Be a journey,
A new world.
When I listen to music,
the music I love,
I become invisible:
I turn into vapour, condense…
and melt in the melody,
the notes play in my veins,
flowing with my pulse,
my eyes closed,
and my heart listens.
I’d be left in tears,
Or lifted up.
I love music.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem