Fireworks

When the dazzling sparks raged across the sky,

And the people awed as the moments passed by,

Did the bright light rekindled their life?

Or did its absence after the spark made them realize…  

 

In the Spring, grass green and flowers blossom;

Bees roam and harvest the flower fields;

The winds are in harmony and the future is to-come;

Each morning is new and everything is charming- 

The world is steadily becoming.

 

In the summer, the sun boils and the earth toils;

Passion brews and passion burns;

People wander the good Earth, asking:

“Father, where is your son?”

“Mother, where is your daughter?”  

 

In the autumn, leaves fall and flowers wither.

When rain falls, the people stand under their umbrellas. 

Thither--under the rain�"they look within themselves and wonder,

“Wife, how is your husband?”

“Husband, how is your wife?”  

 

In the winter when the land becomes colorless, cold and dry;

When people can see their breath,

When they try to preserve its warmth with their aged hands,

They search for warmth from within their heart by offering all they have,

“Son, this is your father.”

“Daughter, this is your mother.”