Operating superficially, the mind is random in its activity and stale in its insights and images. However, with practice and experience the mind is freed from the skull, and the fresh and new can appear as though for the first time. It

There came a day when the clouds drifting along with the wind aroused a wanderlust in me, and I set off on a journey to roam along the seashores

Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.

With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.

How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers

Don't imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.

Just washed, How chill The white leeks!