Stark dark lightening rods of sleeping trees are etched black against a cold cynical sky telling a winter's tale
Warm life leaks like white blood from the braced earth. Optimistic but deluded shoots of green are scythed cell by cell with a cut from frozen scalpels
Water trickles slower, slower..stops, a frozen portrait of it's final tear
All warmth has gone forever
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This was really really good.