It was cold enough
To wear winterwear,
I had put on my sweater.
Perhaps breeze was gently blowing;
I watched through my glass window
That bright yellowish marigold
Nodding in confirmation out.
I felt like it was calling me,
But I couldn't feel that breeze.
I remember something stroke up
Inside, and I became freeze.
I was still motionless,
That flower losing stillness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem