The clouds seem to have lost their shape
The sky just isn’t as blue
The rain’s song is mere annoyance
And the storm brings nothing more than noise
The spring holds nothing but soon-dead flowers
The summer’s fires burn too hot
The fall always requires too much work
And winter is simply a frozen wasteland
The time spent relaxing is time spent poorly
The warmth of a fuzzy blanket holds no appeal
The knowledge found within a storybook has no value
And the world, it’s so meaningless unless it’s filled with gold
The innocence of childhood has run away with the child
The sweet taste of candy has turned bitter
The eyes, once young and shimmering, are disillusioned
And imagination, once abundant, is lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem