cracking noise from branches
snow filled deep trenches
footsteps seldom heard
peaceful, not sight of a herd
sharp arrow heads idle
toes and fingertips tingle
smell of roasting meat rarity
teardrops more of economy
old witch blame it on anything
to save her soul from burning
i understand and you as well
be patient, boost your will
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem