Time's shadows close the circle of seasons.
Life's flow; always interrupted by death.
In autumn, I do my fair share of grieving.
Cruel winter seems to freeze my longings.
I then wait for spring's warm, melting promise:
When shafts oflight and delicate blossoms
Permeate my consciousness and provide
Me with new desires, dreams and fervent hopes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's bleakville out there now and it'll get worse as the colours desaturate and slowly ebb and drain away. But the promise of spring is not really that distant. My favourite season. A more than fine poem Dominic telling us how it currently is and what will become, also what great good there is to look forward to. Five stars and I wish you well.