A Razors wind wails
Lashing from winters cruel whip
Piercing the silence
Over the pallid fields of
A milk-stained Purgatory
I can feel the cruel winter's grip and see the dullness of the field. A brilliant Tanka embellished with wonderful poetic expression and superb imagery.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Slicing through as the wind often does.