The maid going with
A small and round bamboo basket
Full of white-white
Flowery mushrooms
Collected from bushes,
Mushrooms sprouting,
In bloom.
Poetry as fossil-feeling,
Fossils found,
Turned stone and residual
Bearing the brunt of time and its passage,
Remnants of thought and idea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem