Countless times in my dreams,

I have cast off the weight of tradition—

abandoning the rigid confines of Eastern logic,

shedding the burdens of cultural expectation.

I spread the wings of my dreams,

soaring beyond the veiled peaks of the Himalayas,

boldly transcending, piercing through

the borders of Eastern and Western art.

It feels as though I have wandered Rome, drifted through Paris,

again and again,

where dreams and legends entwine,

where fantasy and longing dissolve into a grand feast of time and space,

spilling over with visions I have never lived,

yet somehow know.

Like an illusion spun from light and shadow,

it brims with fleeting impressions—

soft, ethereal, ungraspable—

yet they shimmer, radiant, upon the stage within my heart.

As the deep richness of red wine mingles with the effervescence of champagne,

I paint the stage of my soul in bold, unrelenting colors,

with music ablaze, passion ignited,

surging, roaring,

setting my heart aflame.