Is there eternity:
varied the seasons by occasion, and so the flush of the blue;
warm of the soil, cold of the air, velocity of the wind;
All plant and living, from the seed to current been witnessed;
Exodus, every belongings must not remaining.
Is there eternity, blow the wind to the leaves;
Fall, soar like it has flawed wings to river,
Flow, the path’s seen, follow the eye by the bank,
For hindrance can’t it visible, to rocky road, waterfall, bushes, hill;
The step’s overcharged and the sweat vaporate too quick.
Flow O love, The eye shall lost, and stride must rest, can it arrive to ocean?
