The eye is the imaginary line of the needle.
Sew up some lawns.
Let the wild horse of the soul gallop.
The raging wildfire didn't go out.
This vast expanse of green
A one-year-old withered soul
Standing in the spring breeze of rebirth
The owner of the most beautiful scenery in spring
Standing among the bright flowers
But it is so humble, small and even pitiful.
Belle Gueule
Attract the displeasure of a long-eyed hoe
In the green resentment
Drop the most tragic dignity of spring.
Flowers swaying in the spring breeze
Eliminate conspicuous ugliness
These flowers stand together.
Like a pile of grass
I can't see how beautiful it is.