The harsh winter with the bleak hope
Lashing the houses with cold winds,
Hidden in mist, fog, chill and frost,
The sun struggling to come out
And the gossamers wet with dews.
The pathways still not visible,
I cannot see what it lies ahead,
Dare not step outside
Marking the frost and chill in the air,
The cold and harsh wind lashing.
The chill in the air,
The wind blowing hard,
People with wrappers and blankets
Yet to beat the coldest winter days,
When the sun lies it hidden.
The ruffle is in the air,
The leaves rustling a little,
The mist encompassing around
Everything but chilled and frosty.
I daring to open the window
And on marking it outside, the chill in the air, the misty stillness,
The wind blowing, leaves rustling by,
Close it in
As to stay indoors.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem