snow slowly melting
sloshing on street
ends up to winshields
cold still bites skin
even sun is shining
with breeze i freeze
where are snow plows
i saw one in parking
not much to go around
so schools are close
waiting for warm day
coming it should be
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To escape the snow-bite, you hover into the magic world of poetry. If there too the breeze freezes you, god alone can save you. In cold countries, you have heater-fixed houses. In libraries, offices, trains and buses, they put on the heaters.