The frog comes
on little toed feet.
Glad on pad soaking
rafts, wafts nenuphar away from city zen smog
mist_story current flows from current woes
in bog, in pond beyond poetic reads
It sits croaking.
Silence? - you’re joking! -
until it croaks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem