How I Long To See Among Dawn

Come, See The True Flowers Of This Pained World.

Every Moment Of Life Is The Last, Every Poem Is A Death Poem.

Every Day Is A Journey, And The Journey Itself Is Home.

There Came A Day When The Clouds Drifting Along With The Wind Aroused A Wanderlust In Me, And I Set Off On A Journey To Roam Along The Seashores

If I Had The Knack I'd Sing Like Cherry Flakes Falling