I live in a rose-colored world
Where the western sky is all ablaze
And the light glints off the houses in a rosy jewel-tone at sunrise
I step out of my house and into the warm daylight colors of the world
But ironically, the air I breathe into my lungs is cold
Even though it's officially winter, a flake has yet to hit the ground
It's as though summer refuses to relinquish her grip on us completely
The air smells fresh and sweet, if cold, and reminds me of watermelon rind
Even the winter wind dances around me, a hint of summer on its lips
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
air smells fresh and sweet, good writing..