The summer lurks in the horizon, in preparation of gladness;
The autumn has long been gone, it's dead leaves didn't even left a trace; The winter's snow have all melted, carrying away it's dreadful chill; The wilderness bloom in joyful symphony, in celebration of the spring; But somehow the chill lingers in my bone, not by the mist that long way gone but by the long sleepless nights I spent alone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem