'Family trees, what are these'?
Snapped the clawing wind.
Looking to stretch the savagery
Past this maple thinned.
'Cleaved to mother earth are they
In veils, fashionable'?
No; but in the bygone rooted;
That haze, historical.
Ghosts do roost there; dim birds
With heads, humanly vile...
Boom! It was a paler wind
Fled the scene meanwhile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem