THE WINTRY WIND
writing a poem in the wintry gale.
to send it to? There, can you guess?
That rosy-cheeked, the purple-scarf
No, buddy! It is about my heartfelt distress.
wind blows in that place, this evening
Homeland in swirl – constant is the rain.
With clayish ground old mom's feet cling;
hat and coat by the bamboo chain.
Under the ragged thatched roof, in mire,
from humid fireplace makes her glum;
home, her man warms hands on the fire;
wet coat drips from the bamboo column.
the lamp is lit! And the dinner served:
are pickles, sauce, same and again.
life this evening is felt useless, unnerved;
Listening to the wind causes my heart to pain.