You can sit in your boat of ice
on the warm flow and watch the
Whittling sink in.
Tomorrow will certainly kill you like
Yesterday already has.
Your mind lost in bygone days,
Solid memories distort the current.
When the sleet sheet gives and
The waters embrace we rejoice.
History makes history of history,
And you can be ice again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem