With the chilly winter winds blowing,
I have become the victim of love again.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and the tides of time I can’t tame.
With the ruthless cold winter coming,
I can feel the warmth of your love waning.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and to the tides of time I can’t blame.
With the dark winter nights falling,
I still walk beneath those street lights.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and the tides of time I can’t name.
With the silent winter days brightening,
I still listen to our rhyme.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and the tides of time I can’t claim.
With the infant winter dawn breaking,
I always hope against the hope.
Now I know that no two winters are the same,
and the tides of time I can’t make it the same.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Both of them run parallel to each other -winters and the waning love - have been portrayed very beautifully though with a sense of nostalgia and pain. It was so nice to think about someone so gifted sitting in the remote corner of tranquility called Bhutan.