Snowjack (mythological crime)

I'm on the same earthly plane, I just dried up a little earlier.

The water that is wrung out turns directly into snow

Plum blossoms will never forget the forty-eight years we spent together.

The winter that floats like a white cloud

I peeled off the little flesh inside and bloomed proudly

Cold, but with blood

Hanging on the branches of years

I'm wrapped in the leaves of depression

Floating in the wind

I'm bound with yesterday's yellow flowers

I've been working hard and I'm sick

I'm too old for the world to see.

I'm practicing from the inside, up to the whole body

With the snow, with the world

And the snow, and the world.