Songs of a Cowherd/A Cowherd (

by Itō Sachio

A Cowherd

When I hold out my hand
To a calf,
As if to suckle
At its mother’s breast,
It sucks my fingers.

When I come
With a bucket full of milk,
To feed a young calf,
How he rubs against me and follows me about!
My sweet calf!

I set my young calf free.
With his tail high in the air,
How he runs and bounds
About the yard in circles!