Come, See The True Flowers Of This

Real Poetry, Is To Lead A Beautiful Life. To Live Poetry Is Better Than To Write It.

Between Our Two Lives There Is Also The Life Of The Cherry Blossom.

A Flute With No Holes Is Not A Flute.

A Thicket Of Summer Grass / Is All That Remains / Of The Dreams Of Ancient Warriors.

When I Speak My Lips Feel Cold - The Autumn Wind.