I've lost something,
But I don't know where I lost, and what it is,
With my hands, the pockets, fumbling,
I'm going on the road.
The stone, stone and the stones one after another without the ending,
The road go with the stone wall.
The iron-gate at firmly is closing
By the wall and cast the long shadows on the road.
The road leads from morning to evening,
And from evening to morning.
Groping the stone wall and weeping,
I'm looking up the sky and it's shamefully blue.
This road which no weeds, I'm walking,
‘Cause I were left over there the wall.
Only, The reason living on, I'm looking
For the something which I lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem