[Waves rolling up] ii.

After Tada Chimako

If I don’t taste the complicated waves—

if I only see the rolling,

only hear the roiling up

or smell those waves

—then I will tumble

head over

stance. Then I spring

up, drenched in partisan sand.

Notes:

This poem is a golden shovel using words from a poem by Tada Chimako (1930–2003, Japan) translated by Hiroaki Sato and used with his permission.

Source: Poetry (October 2025)