For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
Learn the rules, and then forget them.
Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.