Drinking the good sake lonely,
I felt that the midnight was long.
Then I was in a county villa
in a farm village under the moon.
The moon like the mirror
to make from polishing a gemstone was apart far away,
and it floated on the surface of the sake.
The wind which had blown in autumn repeated in pieces,
and it sounded the kind of millet.
Facing the beautiful papers of the small widths
to write the poetry and the composition for two hours,
I used my poetic pen on it.
And I drank the sake filled the sake cup
like that a sparrow spreaded the wings.
Because of drinking the sake,
I became warm my body,
and I became a ruddy red face,
and I was still not awaken me from sleep.
And I was deeply impressed
that the crickets sang falling into disorder and seemed busy.
Masaya Samura (pen name: Gensai Shirakawa) in Osaka, Japan
(at September 26, 2016 (for September 25))