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That day, I filled the whole Sapporo letterhead, not to send Iraqi Taqian , only complaints are missing .
That January , I shake all the prayer wheel , prayer is not only for the touch of your fingers.
That year, bowed long prostrate mountain , not for an audience , only to close your warmth .
That I, go to the mountain turn water before pagoda, not to repair the afterlife , only to meet with you the way .
" The people you love , not heaven on earth , you will see at first glance to the earthly , is this immortal carnal ."
So I dropped the Red , look you in the banks of a thousand hills .
Mortal beings , all my faith in worship .
And finally , the seeds of a dandelion with red beans , grow Iraqis smile .
Hawthorn late thinning of the millennium.
See Iraq again when seeking life of Buddha , I repair cents , not for salvation , not for longevity , just hold you for the warmth of life and death , pestering you love.
But you already forget the past life of love .
Today, with the crossing of the time, they did not want to miss .
Natural sense of distance but not unapproachable . So , I was far behind , hidden falls next moment .
"Everyone encountered are already arranged . Everything edge . Origin edge off , poly edge casual, everything is God ."
In the upcoming time, I miss the moment to stay .