Body half buried in sand, still it's lolling its tongue. Over this invertebrate's head, pebbles and brine rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, flowing, fl… - Sakutarō Hagiwara

Poetry always stands at the head of the currents of time, and most acutely feels and touches the feelings of the coming century. That being the case, the true value of a collection of poetry should be determined at least five years, ten years after its publication. Five years, ten years later, vulgar folk in general will catch up for the first time with the position where poetry now stands. That is, normally poetry is best when it is published sooner and understood later. We poets can only despise things like pursuing fashionable thoughts and adopting ourselves to things that are favored for the moment but shallow.

Sometimes I escape from everyone and become solitary.
And my heart loving everyone becomes tearful.
I always like, while walking on a deserted lonely beach,
to think of the crowds in the distant city.

During the long illness and pain,
spiders have covered his face with webs,
his body below the waist has faded like a shadow,
a bush has grown above his waist,
arms rotten,
body all over, truly messed up,
oh, today again the moon is out,
the daybreak moon is out,
and in the opaque light like a lantern
a deformed white dog is howling.