Medicine does not increase your immune system...
Weapons does not create harmony...
Distance in the future...
Posterity takes out my poem...
Posterity laughs with me...
I might be dead...
But posterity wanders my life...
Posterity...
My life is a paint brush...
That writes poem on scroll...
My life is a life...
I may only understand...
Ferns and flowers are different...
Swords and gun are odd instrument...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem