It’s as if the dark grey sky
slowly folds up around the car.
The windscreen wipers
fights a loosing battle,
while the car’s tyres
slides across the road.
I stop for a moment
and take photos,
of the winter snow landscape.
Outside it’s freezing cold
and soaking wet
and I feel snowflakes,
falling softly against my cheek.
Everywhere a white cloak is spread
and over brown fields of grass,
the fuel station and houses
and as far as I can see
there’s a white magic land.
It looks as if the road
runs to the horizon
into the whiteness
and the ice cold wind stings,
while I stand shivering.
The snow grinds under the tyres
and the car slips a little
when I drive away
and I feel like
staying in a lodge for a while.
.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem