Sitting next to my stove
Hearing fire wailing tongue
I feel quiet like in cove
Pour of soul what in hangs
Wander my eyes through window
Scratches my pen on leaf face
Mind planes as light arrow
In large pace among places
Branches do on rhythm sway
Blows of wind wisper n'wail
Showers bias swift obey
Pick on panes as rude nail
Clouds as ship agglomerate
Play with sun hide-and-seek
Many lives do hibernate
Nature mourns winter's weeks.
12/24/2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a good poem picture on the onset of winter...the last stanza lines are beautifully figurative...well, done Kassem...10