Music sounding like a pair of scissors cutting through
the atmosphere while musical rhythms are cut up and down,
touching minds that are steeped in rhythms of this night.
Choosing all types of beats and tones, riding upon a
galloping horse that no one can see, but knowing one is
there.
Its neighing in this poet's mind, lasting roads of eternity,
thirsty for the air of a runaway locomotive while a horse
continues galloping alongside of it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem