She sits at the balcony window,
watching an early summer bloomsome
The earth is like a mirror, she whispers to herself:

Close to You
A glance in the mirror
Within one step closer to the rose
On the face of the sun
a drop of snow.
Under the same cloud
sings a nightingale.
Close to you
not far at all
sea wide from the sky
Purple lily fall…

Attractions attach to attractions
Detachment meeting detachment.
What lives, lives on the ground
What drops, drops and dies without struggle.