The long, gray winter's cold we bear
With caps and coats our daily wear;
In patience, face the wailing wind
And waves of snow that never end -
We stoic stones.
We set our soldier's sights in fall
To face the duty of our call.
We double dress in double time
Against the months of hoary rime
With our cold groans.
We bear up well against the brunt
Of blizzards from the northern front
And hold our lines like seasoned Joes
Amid the frigid winter foes
That bite our bones.
And then, at last, the hint of spring
As some snow melts and robins sing.
Our hearts soar up from roads to skies
Like kites to-ward the sun can rise
For warming loans.
But winter always has a last
Cold breath. A laugh, a freezing blast
That takes the wind from sailing soul
Just as it thought it reached the goal -
Instead, bemoans.
The last cold-hearted winter freeze
That nips the bud on tender trees
Is harder than the whole before
Since budded heart has spring in store -
The hope it owns.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, indeed, despite the winter and its terrible behaviour, there is hope, spring will come, Trees will be budding and birds will be singing, again! Thanks for sharing, Dennis!