Spring's warmed up air, the accumulative
Desire-response
Wintered, and lonesome housebound
Who's, heart-dead, found.
Soft, sweet intoned, for voicings heard.
Further along
Town's brash, scent-brushed, of each roused
Lady flower.
Trail-tracked, more timid, rather
Pleasure through song.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem