the gimmicks of time
My feet never learned
to stop in the mad dance
I was born a wanderer, I still am a vagabond
So every time the sun sets
calling in my ears
or the shining night moon
that advances me to a beautiful dawn
My constant companion
is the shade of the pine trees
I owe them the solace
of my whirling soul
and may be there will be
a time to rest on a shoulder
until the cuckoo comes calling
and the spring comes to life again
Till then I am
the song of every season...
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