You will find your way
when the ice comes.
When the wind howls,
stabbed through by fear,
denizens of spring
sing the stars to sleep.
The seasons turn
to migrations of hope,
and bitterness
fades into tomorrow.
A nascent songbird
shivers its frozen tune.
The ice melts,
the miracle survives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem