Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count -- / Festival of the Souls.
Traveler's heart. Never settled long in one place. Like a portable fire.
Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
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