This frigid forever winter starts to melt
And actually blooms into spring.
The sun thaws my heart and now it beats differently than I have felt.
In touch and in time like a seasonal rebirth;
Synchronized now that this snowy blanket is cast aside.
Spring has finally come,
What has wilted now blooms;
The floral filial now greens and colors;
They stretch their leaves and pedals to the sun.
A fulfilling night,
These budded leaves are turning a new life
The leaves extend maturely with the bee's flight.
I have finally composed myself.
I have learn to control myself and hold my own hourglass
I have learned; from the caterpillar I compare
It cocoons itself and evolves in the grass
Into a butterfly that flutters freely in the air.
The outside has drastically changed but on the inside it is the same.
I climb to reach this life's pinnacle
But along the way, I stopped trying
It's just like me; so typical.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Optimism begins with Spring, but as the observer you cannot go the whole way. An interesting line here: ''They stretch their leaves and pedals to the sun'' I know what was intended but the image of leaves 'pedalling' to the sun intrigues! Another well presented observation. Rgds, Ivan