The dusky dark mass of crowed is
Pillowing the standing sign board.
Its letters have blurred
A letter that had put heart into me
Now has changed into a piece of paper
Drifting to a faraway space and an angel
Who, however like a messenger seems to old
And the memory of the time of the train
Has gradually, gradually… run faraway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem