Sometimes, I just want to fly away and sit by a coast dotted with tiny creeks and gaze at the pebbles sleeping peacefully at the bottom of the stream while drenching my feet in water as pure as an infant.
Swooping gradients, hairpin bends The sun in gold softly descends Heavens painted in crimson hues Evening birds darting through Cypresses swing in welcome mists, Gentle breezes sigh and hiss I cast my eyes on beauteous scene With pleasant vales, villages
You were born, you’ll be going to die, no doubt! Live the never-ending, everlasting life, escape from death’s mouth. When you were born, the world celebrat’d and you cried. Live the life in such a way, That world should cry