Ragdoll mosquito flying in the air, wondering where it
comes from, you haven't far to look.
A little boy stands fishing, barefoot on the shore,
casting out with his 'spy' lure on the line.
Reeling it back from a watery grave, it hits the air
and sprawls around.
All at once, looking like a ragdoll mosquito.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem