Sandwiched tightly within a mind, close-fisted, so as not to lose any kind of idea settled inside.
Walking upon grass of blessed love, feeling it's wisdom skip across the ages.
Immersed in blue memories, all of life stands up before the final question has been asked.
Sitting, cross-legged, in blue jeans, we find there are no answers to be given.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem