The frosty sky, like a furnace burning,
The keen air, crisp and cold,
And a sunset that splashes the clouds with gold
But my heart to summer turning.
Come back, sweet summer ! come back again !
I hate the snow,
And the icy winds that the north lands blow,
And the fall of the frozen rain.
I hate the iron ground,
And the Christmas roses,
And the sickly day that dies when it closes,
With never a song or a sound.
Come back ! come back ! with your passionate heat
And glowing hazes,
And your sun that shines as a lover gazes,
And your day with the tired feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem