Summer now, the heat has broke
The mosquitoes hatched, bit and soaked,
Back into the southern swamps
As the ancient lord of heat who hoped,
To turn the air red fire swarm
Was blown apart by the winds of the north
And now the world has a softer feel
We run barefoot through glade and vale
In the second bloom of flowers which wilt,
Only when the bees have had their fill,
Though soon, the angry winter storms,
Will freeze our skin and bite our bones,
Until we beg the heated form
Of the fire god to burn up the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem