On the coast of the Atlantic,
Stands a barren rock,
It is near the Artic, frozen solid and cold.
Spring is a second,
Only gulls make nests up in crags,
Winter comes,
The snow fox prowls the white lands.
Today a white rosé bloomed
On the highest peak of the grey tomb
And for the first time in my life
I missed you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed reading... mixing nature and love was brilliant and blended GREAT!