Pictures in life are traveled past without a glance,
mind totally absorbed in pleasant melodies and their
rhythms as they tip toe among thoughts.
Imagining and feeling temptations of another time,
one in which moments were not honored or sacred, but
only set aside, because no one can fulfill a heart of
the past.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hearts of the past live in our dreams.