When you wrote a poem,
the words carried –
were hard; a real hard,
therefore I was lost among you all.
Likewise, when you pick up flowers
with your soft hands
to offer to your beloved goddess
who lives in a holy temple,
I became curious to know –
how abandoned did those garden look?
without those flowers that you had picked
only to offer and to please your goddess;
Should my tears wash your hands?
Or, should tear fill the root of those plants?
Your humble words within the poem
written with your own soft hands
to cast your love and affection
that you have in me,
I felt lost inside your poem –
beautiful and sharp your words are
addressing to tell your feels;
Should I carry those meanings to travel far away?
Or, should I make its mirror and watch myself?
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