there isn't much time
for prayer or for rhyme
the clock keeps ticking all day
the rain softly falls
and a somber mood calls
the sky is foreboding and gray
I cannot quite believe
for the sharp winds deceive
and hope only seems to betray
for the cold casts a spell
like a dreaded death knell
and grief that forever must stay
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ιlike your way of structuring the poems, dear Barry.You have something scelial to say by each one.And say it poeticaly.