Vibrant, warm breath of Spring pervades everywhere,
yet I can still feel Winter's frost.
Days are longer and brighter,
yet where is the luster in the heart.
Color hues are rich and full in the budding tapestry,
yet the tincture dyes does not reach
my drossy eyes.
Sun-drawn path glows in its unexhausted kindliness,
yet it fail to reach my ember hearth.
Nature teem her sweet nectar of harvest,
yet I can only savor the languored
past.
Golden bells chime to the future expanse,
yet the lowly reed hears only its
hollow cast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem