A little spider web
hangs on a large hemlock,
ice crystals
strung like a square house.
Under the sun
the snow-covered web appears heavy and light
breakable at any moment.
The dream of my youth
is a frozen spider web
softly blowing in the breeze of time
weighing heavily in my heart;
with a blink
it might tumble silently
at any moment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem