The new day's like a fresh new page.
I stride to school, bearing my bag
Passers-by pass me by
On the snaky lane
I stride to school, bearing my bag
The active sun above my head
Legs a-burning with no flame.
Passers-by pass me by
From dry lips, greetings spark.
As feet chatter with dead leaves
On the snaky lane,
Grasses bob and rise again
Birds perch and fly away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem