you were here looking up
at the pine branches where pine sparrows flit about
you were here resting on the withered grass
the grass remains, still withered
autumn has already come to an end
the winter sun seems so distant and small
on the trail in the valley of dark hills
soft hail comes fluttering
soft hail flutters
Translation: 2010, Takako Lento
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
- (but see Tatsuji Miyoshi's poem, ''The Hail Fell'')