The ground is all a frosty white
Left by coldness in the night.
In open areas of field and park
Jack Frost has left his chilly mark.
Misty valleys are a ghostly sight,
Look all hazy in defused light.
Mute outlines of rocks and trees,
All so still without a breeze.
Above the river a mist does rise,
Shrouding trees before my eyes.
The air is fresh and crisp and clean,
A beautiful morning to be seen.
Now the sun rises gently onto the sky,
Getting brighter as time goes by.
The sky's now streaked with reds and golds,
Oh such wonders nature holds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem