Through sun, with sagged, misshaped look
Of one, long in grieving
Last hangs Day's heartbreak.
Mist-blurred; to not set, but sink!
None of that lively pink!
Winter-entombed, having borne
Snowed, as hushed up in death
Sweet Earth, its sweetheart.
Of its warm hailing, thrush stoke
What, warbled never woke.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nice
Thankyou so much Angel. Much appreciated