As I walk into the garden,
I spot a bundle of bushes in a cornered nest
and how peculiarly they are arranged.
It appears to me like a mini forest,
in the heart
of the garden
The tiny leaves are flaky,
with precise, little cells,
a pale stem so rubbery
And brown, rough branches
that are twisting around spookily
I hear the rustling leaves,
like a rake sweeping leaves
on a late fall day.
The dull and gloomy afternoon sun
coming out a bit too late,
is casting pillars of shadow and light in the mini forest
It's amazing, in this corner nest
Small little bushes
resembling a magnificent forest
What would it be like if the bushes were bigger?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem