Short poem entitled "Stilts" (Takeuma, 竹馬, literally "bamboo horse") by ŌKI Atsuo (大木 惇夫):

Tonari no kora ga
Ura no yabu kara kitte tsukutta
Kono takeuma no take no aosa yo,
Osanai hi no omoide ni
Shimiiru yō na sono aosa yo.

Cut by the children next door
From the thicket out back to make
these stilts: o greenness of that bamboo,
Bleeding into my youthful
memories, o greenness.

"Takeuma" is a nice illustration of how Japanese poets exploit left-branching. The ideas in the first few lines appear in this order: Next door, children, out back, thicket, cut, made, stilts, bamboo, greenness -- and everything before "greenness" is one big modifier. A natural English equivalent, if you weren't concerned about retaining the structure, would be "O greenness of the bamboo of these stilts that the children cut from the thicket out back."

In the Japanese literary tradition, ideas emerge from the primordial general as an amorphous blob, and then slough off layer upon layer as they stumble forward until at last a core of specificity is revealed -- although, this being Japan and all, the final reveal is optional if it seems obvious enough. This tends to draw criticism from folks from "specific-to-general" cultures, but it works beautifully as a way to build tension and setting the scene before unveiling the subject of a poem.