The sun comes up, horizon east
The leaves soak up the rays of light upon them
Turn light to growth, turn light to growth
Against my face I feel the warmth,
The zenith highest point, direct sun
Jackets and hats replaced, with shorts and T’s
Snowboards away rackets with bright yellow balls
Down it comes, thwack, across, it soars
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem