Cold sits
And speaks every faint whisper
Carves its name in uncovered
Fingers and toes
Then begs and steals
Warmth from your breath
Frozen grapes hang solid
On the weathered vines
Gone the memory of lost sun shine
A sting that kisses blue frozen lips
All it loves the warmth it will never feel
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am left with a shiver after reading this, so well described, a great poem.