Tales of dancers with fans
In prim ornate lines
A tenacious custom
Which refines
Waves effevesce, across
Fujiyama's rare blushing;
Loud as pines.
Through an archway, inland sea's
Shintoists endow
Down o'er the Austral land's
Dreaming brow
A whooshing, yearning-filled
Of idealizing
Back-tracks now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem