Strider bug, strider bug
Skinny without a single brush
How dost thou make such patterns
so beautiful on water bed?
Titular bugs, titular bugs
Scraggy without your pen
Without any dab of ink
How dost thou really scrawl
stuff of beauty on water bed?
One often hears of writing in the air
Could thine be one?
But the two melt away
They dissolve no sooner than made-
these apparition things
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem