Without Bitterest Cold That Penetrates To The

When I Speak My Lips Feel Cold - The Autumn Wind.

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

The Moon And Sun Are Travelers Through Eternity. Even The Years Wander On. Whether Drifting Through Life On A Boat Or Climbing Toward Old Age Leading A Horse, Each Day Is A Journey, And The Journey Itself Is Home.

Clapping My Hands With The Echoes The Summer Moon Begins To Dawn.

O Cricket From Your Cherry Cry No One Would Ever Guess How Quickly You Must Die.