The stream stood to water the cloud that snow sat
Drainpipe is the nose of a roof that caught a cold
There are snowmans in the street, step by step
There is no hope to this clan who prays snow
When the dearth of burning-wood comes,
It will turn human burning
A sister with the burning of her brother's heart in her hand
The hand & the lips iced & there is no power in my throat
To shake it to say that there is spring too
Maryam Jafari Azarmani
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem