The winter sun may rise
Yet I do not feel it's warmth
Due to the wind blowing bitterly
Upon my face and hands
The sky is blue and still
A few birds continue to sing
But a coldness holds fast
Trees stand stripped in rows
Barren branches filtering light through
It is all beautiful and bright
But still cold, still so bitter cold
And in all of this it is
But a walk in the the winters sun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem