the solitude of existence./生田　稔
　
ful ones,
turn yellow waves of rice.
Harvest, binding and like new –born baby
Crying full of unforgetableness.
Everywhere heard every song ,
Circling thereabouts,listening intentl,;
Rising from within,
Contour ,odor, and temperature,
Shaking and boiling.
My five-sense listening,
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