A thing unknown for years,
Rain falls heavily in June,
On the ripe cherries, and on
The half cut hay.
Above the glittering
Grey water of the inlet,
In the driving, light filled mist,
A blue heron
Catches mice in the green
And copper and citron swathes.
I walk on the rainy hills.
It is enough.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this poem is gucci... ok i need more words so here you go word word word word word word word word