T’was on the 21st of November’s night were cold
Where crickets on the midst of the night
Echoes the music from their voices
The repertoire told to much tale
A music to my ear
The temperate cold leaves my body bend
Under the blanket, half of my story unsaid
The cold wind brightens my mind
Such a gleeful time to refresh memories
Great feeling for my intimate self bind
I find the night so amusing
There is is a beauty in simple thing
The crickets that live in the temperate cold
How would I not survive this cruel world?
If I were to decode the nights repertoire
God will tell me that life is
Living to be happy
If I could wash away this playful thought
A positive view on life is what I hold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem