How many mountain tops must we approach
Before we open a shallow trail through the wild?

HIS rain has gone to nowhere
I don't know where have all the dark clouds gone
After all, human beings have human’s ways
Our souls have their own destinies
Frustrated are those who have no pre-knowledge
(Of anyone who is not frustrated)

If there are rhythms in time
I would rather be the rest sign.

The moment before mudslide occurred in the rural areas
Crossing, and resting at the twilight realm before civilization is thrown into
Resting at the ridges that are still towering aloft like deep chambers
Resting at the wild countryside
No one can tell the nationalism after you and me, so just let, let
And let the landscape photographs be stolen away.

Or maybe YOU are a still life too shy to grieve
After passing by, your will is sapped, and seek for pleasure no more.

In the early morning I climb over mountain tops and face the swirling wind
Don't read the local chronicles, just measure the community
Aiming for higher places
Many languages are suffering from thermal ataxia
When some young men are embraced by the ridges
YOU lay bare your wound.

One by one, deep footpaths paved through land of former beast trails
In a moment, destroyed, mud and rocks are flowing
The savage wind and wild rain are coming.

How can a sheaf of paddy remain silent?
Don't ask me.