So seasonal ills lull my every mood
Ice flows inward and outward, my thinking
Never does the spring thaw lessen; it's rude
Hold on to my life; each day begs, questioning-
How my overly anxious brain still ploughs on
Spirit frozen stiff and September
Four decays darker have just begun.
My emotions amplify the dread of December.
The 16th leading cause of death in females
Pulling at the fabric of my mind is death-
By-suicide, the eighth cause of death in males
The winter-onset stage for Macbeth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem