Bristling green rice plants,
Make waves reaching the far hills;
Wind’s jugglery spooks!

I want you to simplify me with your love. Like the gratitude of paddy field to rain, with which it grew rice.

I want you to simplify me with your love. Like the prayer said by grass for the soil, which gave it life and in turn, enlivens.

I want you to simplify me with your love. Like works of the sun: rising-setting, giving names to morning, noon, eve and night.

Ripe, golden rice,
Endlessly billowing in wind,
Wafting fresh scent.