Dream Poetry
But surely this heart,
Mine is uneasy,
Some will bring some good things,
But with the activities of the world,
By the proportion of the obligations,
Lost, I will not win.
When the last redness of evening,
Will fall on auction,
On the nab,
When evening will sing,
I will hear something from the mind,
But I can not bear with.
When the mirthful moment of morning,
Trees will be drenched,
Temple bell somewhere far,
Sing to the glory of the Lord,
Then add the hands to the hands,
Will give you my greetings.
When the festivals come,
Will be in the markets,
Knowingly, by chance,
Scattered house in four quarters,
Take the memories of that fragrance,
I will be lost in dreams.
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