The weather is getting chilly these days
The sun no longer arises early and emits its rays
Birds no longer sing their songs to wake us up
Getting up in the morning becomes a difficult task.
Cold wind blows, bringing chills to the bones
Not relieved by wearing extra clothing alone
Exposure to water becomes a thing to dread
Meals eaten cold make the appetite detested.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love of Winter Whenever anyone says they love winter I think of the old one about the heart growing fonder and of them not having long to go, their soul, close to its desire, their heart grabbing for whatever it can get. To cover there being no soul, I think of the love of fire and of what's in the bed.