The season of drowsiness clouds over,
Making all the jobs go slower.
The warmness of the sun has gone,
And the ritual of winter shows its thorns.
Around the big day cold is on its high,
Making the rising star to shy.
The white cover has got its winter state,
And the graceful creatures hibernate.
But the warm passion of sun comes,
While the cold wind of last night harms.
Flowers bloom in the way,
And spread the essence even on the hay.
But it all goes as its minute,
Which came to the cold day as a tribute.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a lovely piece... great imagery write..A10 Ency Bearis