In a copse of green pines,
I fling my hat on a rockspur,
Hurling after it
The rest of my clothes.
I fling my hat on a rockspur,
Hurling after it
The rest of my clothes.
Stretched at ease on soft grass,
Lazily I flick a white-feather fan
As a pine-breeze plays
In my loose, unknotted hair.
Translated by Stanton Hager
Year:
2017
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