as stopped as the silence after
a crash, you work through
the snow, the pines serious
and watching, you stumble disjointed,
unhealed. The clockwork slows
and suffers the pain of half water,
for your eyes are shaded in
the ice-light, blue and unforgiving
as the wind gets harsher
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem