Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.
Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.