time is stiff
the last brown leaf
is letting grip go
stubborn, too, the cherry
the stone-bursting squeeze
of winter's bone
the thrilling forces
of the green fields
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the more I read this the more I like it. at first I felt the word thrilling out of place, but now I feel this is a ten. The poem has its own grip, squeeze, and force. Thank you.