Considering poetry-books and ions,
I sense that the whole one is more than a verse
because ikebana, an art of collection,
has always a place in the sun on the earth.

The life rhythms like waves roll my thoughts and reflections
and cast them on reefs of exceptional rhymes.
These oceans as sea-ikebana collections
wash off all primordial mask, make-up, and grime.

Are synchronous boilings up of culminations?
Are always adjacent all lines´ counting points?
Unspoken ikebana´ll bring harmonization.
It is a child´s play to art, not to a bonze...

As it often happens, the skilled variation
of themes will reduce amplitude of my soul.
But such ikebana is wholesome. Refreshing!
O, how I long for this great problem to solve!..

I read poems running – in silence, aloud – and
set specks of reflections and echoes and – what
to do? – I trust my ikebana... Allow, dear,
relieve! Verses, be native, own, as I want!..