Cold is the heart,
That has no feeling.
It is as cold as ice.
Cold in the Northern front,
With miles of ice sheets.
It is ice.
Cold are the hands of an afraid person.
They feel nothing at all.
They are as cold as ice.
Cold is the coffee,
Having sat on the table,
And no one drank it.
Cold are you,
When you turn your head away,
And never come back again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem