The green-green grave, covered in snow-
sleeps in the sorrow of a concealed face.
showing glimpses of a brighter tomorrow,
Look, the pussywillow fattens its mace.
The appearance of the snowdrop is timeless.
Rustles through crystal-white prisms
green-green threads with diamond eyelets
praise, seasons nod their length in rhythms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem