My art does speak a
Certain pride so well ahead
Of those with some speech.
My sprint is bolder
Than a hundred runners yet
It saves me from food
See summer in bloom
Like a painting on the sky
Inside a little
A winter burden
Appears in the snow to find
Me also in snow
A sea is like art
That heaves and betrays many
In the world of myths
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem