Bitter cold morning,
Ice cold air,
sneaks in stealthily,
the unseeable silts,
In window pans,
iceman in anger,
blows straight,
at my head,
freezes my nose,
I seek refuge in fear,
hide deep down,
under the warm quilt,
wonderful dream!
I become an ice-cream,
just like an icicle,
I think of homeless,
my eyes got fixed,
on a watchman,
on the opposite side,
snoring in his sleep,
on the doorstep of a shop,
under a wornout light quilt,
Vapours coming out,
making a warm aura,
around the contented head.
Mykoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really enjoyed this poem immersely