You can take from here
My eyes, my tongue, my ears...

My sky is falling down to me;
All those peering clouds, are over...

Every winter, fog cascades into spring
Greeting its scents from remnants of autumn...

Thus I remain, a naive vagrant, to her absolute
Absconded across myriad miles of misty minarets...

...There I sat atop the mountains
Whispering, it's a beautiful world...