White screen of dense smoky fog
A cold white curtain it spreads
All around like shivering shades
Whether it is farm, field or bog
Trees through this shaky curtain
Look strange, enormous ghosts
And as the shivering fearful hosts
They hide their guests from rain
These hungry birds and animals
Are unable to trace any source
And their young ones try force
With painful, sinking chuckles
From the hidings of their wings
They at times open sleepy eyes
Wish to go for their usual flies
And dream of pleasant springs
The mighty sun appears as moon
And all hopeful eyes look at its
Warm rays to come down in bits
And wish for soothing warm boon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem