2015年10月28日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 184th. week

By your black haired, to make a ridge, has been too bright.
To comb your hairs, to time if I have, to graze your finger I do.
Blows cold wintry wind, a woman in mortal fate, suffering her joy.
Hanging down, and beating the drums, to flatter and fawn on. Or, at informal interview by them, beating the drums, to flatter and fawn on.
For road mirage, to chase and lost his way, so crying and weeping.

posted =oyo= : 09:14 | comment (0) | trackBack (0) | The Lion Sleeps Tonight