Cold, miserable rainy weather
the backdropp of a hollow scenery
which replaces a once much adored
seasonal festivities
Limp, lifeless tress
needlessly decorated
presents as almost meaningless
as any cards sent
to any recipents
An atmosphere to make the most optimistic soul
despondent
for excitement has well & truly left
this occassion
taking with it
the festive merriment
Christmas is truly dead
and that what is seen
on December 25th
is but a mere ghost
of what once was
memories from the past
of each christmas day
of delightful celebrations.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem