Open life,
Open book,
Open field.
Everything is opened.
Yet, we are unable to know
The happenings of life,
The writings of book,
The players of the field.
All we see only the rainbows,
All we hear only the sound of horrors.
All are zero, we know though.
Yet we feel pain and pleasure,
We know though, all are
The play of nature.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Let us love all and live an open life.