Hastened by the cold is winter dealing swiftly with denial,
Hatred forces mildly, hinting at mortuaries, and graves.
Heaving in tatters, filling the ambition, having awkward goals,
When does heaven display a folding and sorting of goals?
The forces of carelessness and neglect are upon us,
Yet the letters of financial matters are lovely.
Cold the winter, heavenly the bursting of activity,
Memory is beautiful, of mountain like size.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.