Except the fresh morning air
That blows over the land and
Soothing to the mind nothing
Is new in this world and fair
The monotonous life with its
Endless struggles for survival
Sometimes seem very hard to
Live and shreds the soul to bits
A day brings promises new
With a hope that something
Good will happen but at the
End it displays a bland hue
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem