The trees are naked
they don't wear no clothes
in the winter time
the clouds
wear a dark face
the wind is
carrying a mournful tune
morning no longer
sings of spring
Morning no longer
sings of summer
its winter now
and its touch
is very cold
without any warmth
the frozen ground
grumbles
when the sun
does not shine
as it waits
for spring to begin
again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem