I am here with stones once died and still
continue deaths and the trees that decay but are reborn to carry the lives.
　

I recalled there had been a small stone
ike a rabbit-ear iris wet in the rain,
I got back to the place in the wadi.
　

Feeling that the Armgeddon may be
unexpectedly proximate,
I peruse Revelations at the bank of a wadi.
　

We go forward the infinite great plain,
thinking neither when we are to reach
nor how many miles are still remaining.
　

I was told the horse race of Gobi had just started,
also, to watch the horizon an hour later.
　

On the horizon viewed from the Gobi
appeared a solitary dot of horse
soon followed the ones right and left.