This, is still NOT my photograph here…
Translated…
Three sharpened black dots
Like arrows
Shooting through
The white wintry morning
They were three crows
Taken flight from the tips of the branches
Like the magical shadows taking flight
Landed, on my neighbors’ rooftop
The eyes that woke from the winter’s slumbers
Stared, without blinking at
This temporary stage that was set up
Wanted to see how the magician called spring
Is going to be able to use her hands to
Pick up these few black dots
Lifting them up, shaking gently
And turn this hillside
Into the varied shades of reds, yellows, greens and purples
So this, is as spring is coming in, and the poet is by the window, watching the changes in the world, how the living organisms that were originally fast in their slumbers in winter time is slowly waking up, and how those flowers that were originally withered away are now, coming into bloom, it must be amazing, to be able to see the changes of the seasons from one’s own window.