Listening wholly to the sounds of narration
being delivered by an old pine tree among other trees,
Resonating ears sincerely with the chant
being whispered by the small fountain over rock..
I know these are all for the songs of joy
of mother nature.
Seeing nonchalantly the mirage
over the plain grasses in the field,
Being obsessed by the shadow of clouds
reflected from deep inside of water
I come into know that all these are for the great poems
being written by mother nature..