The closing of the day
Fading of mists
The bleak arising
And the genesis of
Dark
The vesper bell that
Hoary through the
Chill
Sweet sad notes emits
Through the red frost:
Noses red
Hands red
Coughing red
Ah! Christmas will be near!
Yet
It be too far too, my Monsignor
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem