Where water turns to snow
And wood to ashes
Where foot prints lie deep
And doors no longer open
Where life is a fight
And the sky never bright
Listen to the ground
Do you hear the silence?
It’s louder than before
Too much to bear,
Like the cold winter air
And frigid it may seem
This is only a dream,
Twas the night before sorrow
Will it ever be morrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem