Barely one season ends another begins;
exhaustion in the guise of family tradition
grips me in unrelenting frustration.
I am awash in expectation
wrecked in a sea of constant activity;
barely enough time to breathe much less
experience the season's beauty.
Oh how I yearn for some heavenly peace;
a little time to build my own fires
and warm the chill in my bones
on this spiritless shore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem