Dark evenings, unremitting rain,
Constant wind blowing.
My heart mourning the passing
Of summer, wistfully dreaming
Once again of Spring
To lift my spirit, and fill my soul
And make my body whole.
Winter is mournful without frost
And snow. We look upon it harshly,
Wishing it would hurry and go.
But then, the bitter sweet moods
It brings, are as life itself.
To be endured, patiently, and stoically.
Until, one uplifting morning, the sun
Breaks through, such light and warmth.
There is birdsong, and we know
Winter is sighing it's last mournful echo,
And we can start to plan.
To open our hearts, and greet once more,
The beauty and warmth of Spri
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem