My coach says: run on grass
light shoes, thin socks
the clever muscles of your feet
find their balance
He watches as I run away
and back with short soft steps
he says: you have a nice style I see
no reason why you shouldn't run.
So here I am, three months off my pension
jogging round the field
cherry blossom, snowy mountains, ah! a glimpse of sea
like a happy child
in silk socks.