Shangrila in Korai,
young leaves in the sarroounding hills,
lots of flowers in the village.
　

It is said that the life after death is true world.
Does it strike into the core of credo
that does not know the reality?
　

The sun is shining on the high mountains.
The low hills are stull sleeping in deep indigo.
　

Entering Beijin in autumn,
I bought fat peanuts from a shop
at the entrance of an inn.
　

I am passing Tiananmen by car.
The cloud like the palace's marble marker
is not flying yet.