by Alfred H. Marks
Green, bug-eyed, wingless, conquering air,
earth-thrusting legs outstretched in triumph;
submerging in jade, groundless depths.
the jet thrown high tumbles,
the shaken air composes to silence;
the rings of water spread, strike shore,
return colliding and subside.
From Hiroaki Sato’s One Hundred Frogs, New York: Inklings/Weatherhill, 1995, page 72.