An Artist and a Poet are one thing.
if only they could brush among the Mountains,
put up a tent and feel with their skin
The radiant calico that is exciting.
and music and the breathing that is mild,
The sparkling pores of hills, not very fresh,
And their loving of a silver kind
to the sound of a stream babbling a trash.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem