Ocean made of a sweet saxophone
The golden horns of stars
Everything simple gleans with eternity
A few lines of a drawing and you have soul
Wood is divine
The past in the abstract now
Lamps with roses
Carpets woven like deserts
Cadence like a forest
Creation is born
Music is truly spiritual
Moods, moons, rings
Meditations of the coming glory
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem