From the beds where the angels keep
Their watch throughout eternity
Upon the world where mortals sleep
The first snowflake falls so gently.
The soundless teardrops fill the sky
Frozen so that the world may see
The forms that oft escape the eye,
So seldom shown to you and me.
Now ages cease and halt their stride
For moment’s stop and time is dead.
It stays there till the morning tide
When waking steals me from my bed,
Rising to the blanket of snow
And so restarts time’s ebb and flow.
Liked it. Time is personal and relative and springs forth from our experience of the world, such as waking to a lovely snowfall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A free flight of creativity on winged imagination. Good rendition of words to utmost justice in a lovely piece of poetry with rhythmic splendour. Thanks for sharing.