Push slowly withered leaf,the wind,weaving colored and fragrant tiaras.
Scattered them among the brushwood,leaves-of the heart-sign,as in an unread book,the words.
It sneaks through the trees,wind,...as Fairies,
looking for the place and fortune.
In their small fists and reddened,Fairies
gathered-in haste scented brushwood-of forest tree...
to make hut-in glade,
to rest to tell stories,they may rejoice.
Looking up at blue sky,they let down-the braids,braided desires,...Fairies.
In Spring waves were mirrored stars...birds have gathered-in echo,trills,calling the chamois.
The dens of the mountains,ghosts,wait with joy and fear Dawn,to warm the Earth.
At night,my fear was dispelled,as a white coral berry,caught the mischievous wind-in Desra tresses.
