Touching interiorly, signs from God, using innate gifts,
colorful and met in prisms of musical etudes, being
composed as I walk along edges of tomorrow, alone and
forlorn.
Being tempered with suffering and a sacred grief, held
in check by sounds of ancient music, stationing itself
deeply within - resting peacefully in depths of a holy
loneliness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem