Snow is on the ground
The icicles hang strong
For morning, sun is up
I’m mused, with photo
One bird flies in the sky
Flapping wing is drone
Washington’s ugly sign
“It’s a death to Afghan”
It is seagull.
With winter departing
Their race is returning
Is this one a pioneer?
What about engineer?
This presence is a sign
In no time they’ll come.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem