No one could survive, lighting the candle, among the scholar’s convergent wind.
Like, again, the old ruined beaver dam.
Try to block the strong deadly tide.
Those fools will be crushed in a jam.
Thousand of flowers, sparkle the paradise out of dry field.
Cut only little one.
May some needs could be fulfilled.
But the total beautiful harmony is done.
Praiman
Sansai
10.04.11
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