a northern wind will bruise a flake
that spins around a barren bough
and looks for a nice place to melt
seeking my heart to hide in
the white dust moves to crack the soul
that leaked into the pools of dyes
and frozen lies in love with the ground
seeking my heart to hide in
and all the words I ever uttered
into the wells or into the clouds
are bruised like flakes in icy wind
seeking my heart to hide in
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem