To cry one day more never less.
One day,
every day the rain comes, I am wet.
End without end are my sorrows.
Teasing my brain,
midnight music of lite being formed.
Even the moss and the leaf.
Collides without sound in the wind
And continuous each chime.
When green rain and brown stone.
Bamboo stands...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem