When was it that winter gales
Blew down trees around our home?
And where was I—A roam
Among the budding Spring vales,
Or with you at home
Trying to stave off the trees fall
With nothing more than frightened prayer
And peering out the frosted window, where
We asked God why he made us thrall
To Nature’s course, with prayer?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem