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Rose Garden
Straining to catch their words,
Always lost, however
Strongly I draw inwards
Their scent and colour,
Listening for so long
To the macho fountain
Bursting into airy song,
Stippling the pool's skin,
So replete in senses -
Against the carp's stealth,
Circling upon itself
Within its absences
Fukuyama, 1981
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