Sounds of voices coming from beyond window panes full of
reflections of passers-by.
Nothing staying long in mind, always being placed on
interior photographic screens for future use in poems
when thinking of some particle or another.
Leveling the field throughout life by writing and think-
ing through musical rhythms.
No one ever coming close to what it is I do, even being
scientifically studied doesn't find any answers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem