I cannot wait for spring flowers.
The invitations have begun to Spring.
I used to think I loved spring flowers
until they got this year so beautiful and pleasure,
the whole world away at the,
sunk in sweet and nice.
Goodbye, winter:
you were supposed to love us
from spring but everyone just slumped
into you, happy sacks
Pulling the shade down on an evening
Of a few too many rich things.
Well, I will have another.
I'll have spring. The spring of flowers
For no reason, of shivering rooftops,
scuffed shoes, scarves with cigarette holes.
I'll warm your shed.
I'll snort your mulling spices.
I'll stay too late; I'll go on a wine run,
I'll do anything
To stay in your dimly lit rooms
Scrubbed clean of their entire spring flower.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Waiting for spring....... in Europe the changing of the weather is felt so well, this is an actual poem...... for asians and africans living near the equator, this is not a reality............... after winter, and its hard climate...... waiting for the spring and its flowers and the warmth and the change we see in the nature............. you have really pictured it very well dear poetess. tony