What flowers which such dazling gaze,
What leaves and bright bring me to such a maze,
This funny tree that makes me jump around,
This grass that makes me want to lick the ground.

How is it that the wind swishes by,
How is it that the rain smells like pie,
When the river down the mountain flows,
OH! When during the night the moon glows.

And when the sun did such rays shine,
And when I felt the whole world was mine!!!!
Why is it that mushrooms so colourful looked?
Why is it that that mine chicken weren't cooked?

Such random words I like to say,
Such fun i find it to continue and play,
My brain thus thought that I was crazy,
My sofa simply thought that I was lazy.

Within this poem that i hope you like,
Within the mountain that I will one day hike,
Will you find such nonsense words,
Will I sing them to mine birds. 
 

When someone talks to us,
we listen, we don't leave,
not even if we wanted to.

Why?
Because it's rude, 
and whatever someone might say,
might be important.

So what about when we rush inside,
when the wind is cold and it swishes by?
Why don't we stay for a while,
why don't we listen to it for once?

For nature might want to say something important,
and we just leave!
We hide from it!

There might be a point in the coldness,
but listen to me, 
listen the wind,
to the nature,
and concentrate on making your body warm, 
while you listen to it, at least for a WHILE.

Imagine a world... the world as it should be. To read the poem, click read more.

L'hiver est tres beaux
Je joue dans la nouvelle neige
La neige est tres froide!

Translation in English (please note that the translation may not pay attention to the haiku rules, like the five-seven-five syllablles rule):

The winter is very beautiful
I play in the new snow
The snow is very cold!

As the wind brushes by,
as the birds say goodbye,
as the leaves flutter away,
as I say good day,
I look around me,
oh, how wonderful nature can be.

As the trees ruffle and twist,
just as the flowers that I miss,
as my scarf turns around,
as I fall toward the ground.

As the chestnuts fall and fall,
as I call call and call,
as I see a squirrel climbing,
as I see myself writing,
I only know one thing.

It is autumn.