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Poem

Tatsuji Miyoshi

A Village

The deer was held in a dark shed, tied by the horns with a hempen rope. He sat neatly, gracefully, where he couldn’t see anything, his blue eyes clear. A single taro was lying there.

Outside, the cherry blossoms were cascading petals. A bicycle came down from the hills, leaving a single track through them. A girl was gazing at the thicket, her back facing me, a black ribbon fastened on the shoulder of her kimono coat.

A VILLAGE

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A Village

The deer was held in a dark shed, tied by the horns with a hempen rope. He sat neatly, gracefully, where he couldn’t see anything, his blue eyes clear. A single taro was lying there.

Outside, the cherry blossoms were cascading petals. A bicycle came down from the hills, leaving a single track through them. A girl was gazing at the thicket, her back facing me, a black ribbon fastened on the shoulder of her kimono coat.

A Village

The deer was held in a dark shed, tied by the horns with a hempen rope. He sat neatly, gracefully, where he couldn’t see anything, his blue eyes clear. A single taro was lying there.

Outside, the cherry blossoms were cascading petals. A bicycle came down from the hills, leaving a single track through them. A girl was gazing at the thicket, her back facing me, a black ribbon fastened on the shoulder of her kimono coat.
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