Coldly now the winds
of February blow,
Chilling false facades
of early springtime glow.
Arriving never late
its mildness often peeks,
Only to succumb
by winter's smite complete.
Apple green they glace
within their frozen shell,
Springtime buds await
cocooned in icy hell.
sinnaminsun 2-19-06
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem