Mountains rise over mountains and smoke from valleys;
the dust of the world can never touch the white gulls.
The old fisherman is by no means disinterested;
he owns, in his boat, the moon over the west river.
translated by Kim Jong-gil
Mountains rise over mountains and smoke from valleys;
the dust of the world can never touch the white gulls.
The old fisherman is by no means disinterested;
he owns, in his boat, the moon over the west river.
translated by Kim Jong-gil
Se non combatti per costruire la tua vita non ti rimarrà niente
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We are all just babes in the woods.
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lo breve si bueno...
萩市＆旧萩藩三隅にイエス様現る。アーメン。日本共産党（しんぶん赤旗）・宮内欣二・五十嵐ひとみ、林哲也、を支援します。（一服タイムの文学者：労働者の皆様へ）
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here to transcend
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Where a little insanity goes a long way
Nice moon poems lately. Such a moon out there too.
I once wrote “contrails at night are prettier.” Tonight I saw contrail at night through clouds and they are prettiest.
The moon seems to attract us all.
And birds. Seems a thing poets and birds.
Seasons, too, and what they bring.
and no-one can take it from him
Right.