the first snowfall
we made snow angels
the yard white, wet
and a texture of nimbus clouds.
standing up
our shadow casts our ghosts across
and we waited
until the October sun melted them away.
The sixth and the eighth lines make an image that was never seen elsewhere. Wonderful!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
In the last three lines, an image nowhere seen has been created. Wonderful!