Yellow Lake

There you can fish tasteful fish
come up on the table but
the lake is yellow and doesn't show its depths
the Indians living by the lake
don't show their depths either
whether fish live in their eyes
or tasteful spirits are singing boiling their hatreds
the depths of their eyes are dark and I can't see anything
by the yellow lake
live those who don't show themselves on the table

by Kazuko Shiraishi

Other poems of SHIRAISHI (8)

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