The sun arises, o` holy dawn!
By the meadow creeps an old man with no feeling of fawn,
O`er the branches and dead logs.
The crows caw in their melancholy mood,
The birds overhead are met at opposition for food.
The old man perches himself upon a log so-mellow,
Yet why was there no shadow?
He outed a bag of chestnut and acorn,
and fed an animal.
The bag tipped in mood of the Abysmal,
and he creaked out a laugh that never seem to die off.
The squirrels stirred at his lie,
and in the wink of an eye,
zoomed from the area like lightning.
However the old man still had cherished nothing,
but a sound of anything -
yet, why was there still no shadow?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.