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running back through the wicket letting the last train go I was wrapped with his coat |
上の短歌は " American Tanka" Issue７・Fall １９９９（NY）に投稿採用されたもの
| without a word sitting on the beach I was dusting the sand over his feet again and again ’cause he was leaving this town |
| how comfortable it is to listen to the stream running through the garden it might be the same sound as I heard in the womb |
| time will heal the sorrow listen ! a gust of the wind is rustling the bamboo bush spring's around the corner |