The cold days of winter are here again.
They move slowly for me.
I have no love for winter’s scene.
I become sedentary.
I move around slow, peer through the window
and wait for a robin to appear.
I look at the ominous clouds in the sky,
hoping they’ll disappear.
I listen to howling winds outside
and feel they will never end.
I play the piano to drown out their sound
and then I just pretend
that winter is ready to take its leave
and finally leave me alone.
But all the while I feel the cold
and the depression to which I’m prone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem