Plump and snug and feathery,
a ball of yarn
rolls gaily down the street
and turns the corner.
No map, no thermos bottle,
the knitting abandoned,
it's already crossed the bridge
and passed the police station,
and now
turns another corner.
Three years ago
it was all five fingers
of a lovely glove.

(Translated by William I. Elliott and Kazao Kawamura)