I see the deep snow
has covered up
the green earth
with her white cloak.
Today we are trudging
through congested dew.
The Sun will paint the earth
gold soon;
the flower buds will turn
head out from the heart
of its mother again, and
the birds will fly, twitter in glee
out of pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem