The artist, paints the mountains white,
the trees standing still,
like soldier-dolls,
where faces blush,
buckets open their mouths,
to drink rain water,
ducks peek disappointedly,
over frozen rivers,
usually shuddering under the affectionate,
gaze of the mauve sky,
walruses hold their heads high,
to take a whiff of the cool air,
twitching their whiskers,
simultaneously, along with his orchestra,
the compose sighs,
in his parchment,
he affectionately signs,
'to earth,
with love, artist.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great tribute to a great season. I like winter and I like your poem. Thank you. Richard