In the north, the rain is white,
the floor is covered with clouds,
the wind tears the skin and
the cold invades the body.
In the south, the rain is just rain,
the floor is covered with dust,
the wind blows as a breeze and
the cold kisses the body without warning.
In the north, men wear black suits,
they walk on dry cement,
they have a future since the cradle and
they are just men...
In the south, men wear suits,
they walk on wet cement,
they have a future when they dream and
they are also just men...
All over the world, the seasons are different,
the small and great feelings are different.
Even men are different! however, they're present,
making time our only distance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem