The story of a blue mountain
A white house is next to the forest. Every day you enter that house
In silence. All the mind-refreshing-trees are around the house.
The green wings of the bushes are on the trees. Through a little touch
Of wind, the trees start flying by fluttering their wings.
A little farther on, a happy Pine-bush is there. Happy enough, because
Whenever they see you, they hug and kiss each other with their long bodies,
Then there originate crackling-noises in the air.
There is only one way out of the house. The zigzag path has ascended
Towards the blue mountain. Spring, Pine and Poplar are upstairs there.
As soon as you climb the mountain, all the white and brown clouds
Stand close to your body. To touch the clouds, you get startled;
You are not touching my chin!
Further up is the hilltop, as soon as you get there; the world seems so small, like a dot. Where were you, where did you come from? Such a house
You dreamed of. From the top of the mountain to the side of the Pine, Flowing-spring, partridge, wildflower and a couple of deer are there.
Thus afternoon comes closer all around.
Just then, just before jumping from the summit into the air
I remembered that favourite face.