The skies all leaden-eyed and taciturn
Have decked their winter garb
And with abuse of their authority
The May day into a winter day changeth.
How still the wind like to winnowing Spring
How hot the temperature – without thunder
The drizzly rain-drops fall in a brief shower.
And Dawn has gone down fast the Nix Mangiari steps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem