i wonder if a snake
before it's time to shed it's skin
feels a bit - discomfitted
residing still therein.
or summer feels the strain
of many days so long and warm
and drained - as tho - begins to wane
'ere winter sends a storm.
for something of a doom
is looming - somewhere overhead -
and seems a hole inside my soul
for want of tears to shed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem