- 'Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York; '
-'King Richard 111'. William Shakespeare (1564-1616) .
New Zealand is in the middle of a long cold winter,
with rainfall, icy winds and and lower snow lines
on the mountains in both islands.
The shortest day has come and gone-
nine-and-a-half hours'sunlight- but a great day.
This winter is like other winters I can recall
except for one difference: Covid-19 is still among us,
because travellers from overseas unpacked the disease.
At the same time, the long hot summer in the northern hemisphere
must be far from glorious. The statistics talk of new cases and more deaths every day. The stats don't lie in matters of life and death.
The corona virus is the worst pandemic with the most fatalities
since the bubonic plague-also known as the Black Death-
ravaged Europe in the fourteenth century.
- 30 June/ 1 July 2020.
For us in the hot climes, snow and reading of cold climates is exotic and fun and you depicted in a fine poetic way. As for this pandemic it spreads even in most hygienic places ah. We here in Africa Tanzania have had few deaths. Kudos for your current affairs to poem! Plz do read and comment your thoughts on my newest prose titled, " face veils/face masks same thing " as it fosters an understanding of the shared veiling practice btw east and west since history.
It may well become The Years and Years of Our Discontent. It is here, we must do all we can do to inhibit its growth and find in ourselves the ingenuity to still live a good adventurous life in our own homes and countrysides. Take care, Michael
Thanks for your assessment. 'The winter of our discontent'-a brilliant phrase.
You have begun with the charming territorial highlights including the beauty of majestic mountains, its seasonal extremes in the current winter months. If you ask me, this is like living in heaven on earth. I am so fond of such conditions. But then, Covid has taken the sheen off this wonderland and other such places in the world. Thanks for sharing even a brief history of pandemics down the ages.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There are eight more lines to this sonnet-missing. M.W.