The way has been lost at last
The glow-worms are plunged Into the play of lights.
The golden bees are buzzing
In the crops of balanceless thought.
Immersion comes, so does the calmness of twi-light
At the embracement of sowed crops.
There appears a long black spot
In the shade of rhythmic arbor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem