Blocking the entrance of water from the left,
expecting to be in bliss
there comes behind
getting rid of this comes the great flood
is this inevitable?
springing out of tears
thou shall spring to sorrows
be a limit at all?
after climbing series of mountings
there comes great bruises
getting them dabbed comes series of mountains to evade
was this to only me?
a look at my co-player
seems more bruised,
skin more tan
my mouth becomes folded.
under this cosmos
springing, springing
becomes a great tradition
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem