A water wheel by the mill. A lone camellia tree in the shade of a thicket.
A butterfly flutters down to a newly made rut, moving in different directions,
to the quiet rhythms of its wings - it arrests me
"Here we are, dear, the railroad crossing . . ." I pause
Translation: 2010, Takako Lento
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this poem is from TM's book 'Nansoushu', published 1932