Same usual young morning
Same usual old winter’s step
As I hope, let the dark night moon
Left on the sky dying
Looking back I have walked
There’s uncountable footprint
Don’t know what I should
I look to the right, to the left, and to the front
Then I watch the feet, snow melted on my heel
On the sky gray snow cloud flying by,
between spring fog and storm
Seeing that sparkling crystal you hear, don't you?
My poem from deserted place
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem