The winter sky is overcast with the mists of grey,
The barren land cries out, for the yellow rays
To no avail do the brooding skies listen,
To the cries of the land, that below it lay.
And I, I lie here too, cold, shivering, and unwanted to the end,
On this unforgiving earth, that makes my berth within its bay.
I strive to rise, only to have my struggle quelled,
By the cold and the harshness of the callous winter
A winter that comes endlessly time upon time
And with each instance that the cold cometh, hither
I languish once again before its approaching eye.
Knowing full well when the winter passes by,
I rise undaunted and unfurl my blossomed head.