Dry leaves hanging from twigs of roadside trees I am suffering from a cold wind The dry front keeps silence with trembling lips Yes, weak but firm in silence a lot of time to live Christmas lights flicker Poinsettia by the window your bright red lips be quiet Another year after walking through the forest of time I dream of howling blizzards in my primeval mountains Fluttering in the sound of a wild blizzard I want to shoot wildly There were many days when I was too gentle Poinsettia. ...
