Winter,
The time of almost certain death to our world
The Old oak tree
The Luscious red rose
The Roaming green plains
All begin to fade
What was once beautiful, young, and full of life turns barren
And lost to everything but memory
Alas, things thought to be gone show a hint of life
The Old oak drops its seeds
The Luscious rose begins to bloom
As the rebirth of nature begins
So does the rebirth of mankind’s most precious possession
The human heart.
The New Year accounts for many things,
I know I shall never love the same
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem