A feather floated awhile, and descended on my lap,
Sweet air of barley brushed my hair, plucking off my cap,
The wind grew stronger, and the tin roofs roared,
A cold current kissed my cheeks; in the blistering cold.
The wind struck at flags, rags and awestruck birds,
Birds that flocked together, flew in apathy, like nerds,
No sweet direction to calm, but a shelter called home,
The wind gushed harder into the orange orchards and bee combs.
A bamboo swings like pendulum, hither and thither,
The sole testimony to life, other than the fruits, pine and fir;
Water is freezing cold, dew is in the air,
Fog encircles the festivities bound to the villagers' share.
And thus through tough times, we live merrily like none,
Revelling at Christmas and New Year, with great fun,
Murky sky lurks the lights, but clouds are white as well,
As is the snow, and the clear soul, blonde is all to hell.
And although palm and feet and back are also white with cold,
The palms shiver, backs ache and fingers grow two-fold;
Yet, white is also wisdom beards, and white is honesty and truth,
White is wonderful, and yet white is not all that is good.
For lo, white symbolizes the end, that death that sweeps all once born,
Blistering cold takes such a toll on peoplewho know not of home;
So, farewell white and adieu to winter, for I love warm days still,
And once again, the skies are blue and the grass is green.