It’s as if this winter
is more deadly,
than the cold with which it bothers.
It’s as if there lies greater evil
than the pig flu,
that comes with this winter.
My life is now empty from you
and our love,
is almost dead from frost and freezing.
Will there ever be
a hot summer between us
and will that which are left between us,
sprout out and flower again?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem