In the cool dusk, the swish of her dress, like the sound of the wind.
What stillness! the pucal flower, pale as a dream,
sprites overhead.
-
Takamura Kōtarō
-
Takamura Kōtarō
In the cool dusk, the swish of her dress, like the sound of the wind.
What stillness! the pucal flower, pale as a dream,
sprites overhead.
Takamura Kōtarō
Takamura Kōtarō