There at the seashore
The owls have hooted their hoarse voices
It is like the herons have gone away
With the fish
Or the tides long awaited
Has had the fish in its blossom
The fish tackles are dry
And resting ashore
Down in the stilt house
The despondent fishermen
Are taking away melancholy
It is a party of gin drinking
And maybe the sea is forgotten!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem