'not seldom a samurai didn't just have a sword but too he served the
pen to write some poetry with over the beating beauty of nature and
his loves around going in and out.....'
(*)(*)(*)
=='the dearness of his love was like a bunch of dry wood, thin and
cracky this branches started to get fire in, with all at once red
flames and orange ones, even white, and too some blueish we have seen,
soon the blackening bunch ended to ashes, the smoke slowly and heavily
fading, some sparkles shot up, the the flames died away...as sudden as
the stars come twinckling at the dark sky above the little forest we
stay in to get our rightful sleep, the flames lightened in the nightly
dream we shared when we were cold......'//
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