It Is Cold Outside And Boring. Poem by Liza Sud
It Is Cold Outside And Boring.
It is cold outside and boring.
Poems don't warm my soul.
My sun had set although,
It promised flowers for all.
Son, any work in the town,
always so alien and strange,
Betrayal follows like shadow,
Like a clot in the throat are days,
But the song, like a pulse, does not break,
One should not just survive but live,
O My heart, where do you wander?
I'm waiting for you, can not weep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 4:55:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
