The sky envelops this small earth.
Yet this earth, though small, is not meagre.

In an ocean,
innumerable water drops lie.
Taking together all,
only the ocean is recognised.

The bud of flower,
the particle of sand,
remain on the side of the path,
with no one ever thinking of them.
Yet, the fragrance that fills this dreamy earth
is made from them.
Their role is nondiminishing.

In the new period,
in the history of the new,
I shall create an environment of affection.

The sweet story of the minds
of those who have done
and of those who now continue to do,
remains in dumb mouths.