Grey snow,
flooded by the rays of sun,
thaws slowly,
in the rhythm of the spring birds music,
letting the earth
without its counterpane.
A snowdropp ventures
to raise its shoulders
over the little snow
that remained.
A snowdropp penetrates hardly
through the snow
that allows the snowdrop
to get a place,
and that bows
before a prince of spring.
From now on, winter
gathers its soldiers
and winter withdraws
to north,
where winter still rules
everywhere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't like winter, but I like that poem! Purple Rose