When a snowflake hits the ground,
Few seem to be that interested...
In its uniqueness from the others,
Collecting to stick and slick the pavement...
Everywhere.
Without a getting around it.
And those falling onto it embarrassed,
Are rarely seen taking a closer look...
At the individualized patterns made,
By each flake to marvel in awe the beauty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem