Haiku 85
(Lawn of Mind)
The lawn, full of dust,
Always with the air that blows,
Sweeping goes futile.
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The lawn, full of dust, Always with the air that blows, Sweeping goes futile
The lawn, full of dust, Always with the air that blows, Sweeping goes futile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The lawn, full of dust, Always with the air that blows, Sweeping goes futile