The day blew in wide open
With me soaking up the irony
Of an incongruous Spring Sun;
Caught in the flap of mighty gales
Of Disdain...
I cower in diversions worried wrinke;
Springs enlightened opening still surveys...
Far ahead of a Summer of more discontent?
Where, perhaps, scorching days
Will still have their own ways...?
But avoiding the sullen of malevolent? ;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem