As our childhoods spun on a dime
But it wasn't the abstinence of tears.
That made us into granite rocks.
It wasn't Mount Vesuvius...
That turned us each into clay pots.
So what was it, please... answer!
Well, look, look, here's the answer...
It's written on the back of that mirror.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
we make ourselves either weak or strong! diluted ethanol is used on the plants for the flowers to bloom faster! Nice poem!