Quite suddenly, full blown,
out of the chubby cheeks of an infant wind,
a leaf landed on a mud-puddle,
like a strange, crude vessel launched
on a fathomless cafe au lait sea.
It tacked eastward for seven ticks of time
then lost its course in a birthday candle blow.
Later, by the sun-shrunken mud-puddle
that had beached the curled brown leaf,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem