Ancestors death the fallen impression of depression never come away from But picking the persimmon from the barren tree And life forgetting the shadows of open the life, beauty, around open to and flames closing to death while But never live the life of (those who have died before have fallen the death of those who had died before) Living the death of shadow of not feel the Have we room enough for And life, too, sorrow? Before us was is Many have died their death lives We forget. The horses wildly run burn away from through shadows of forgotten death
8 December 1970