Snow weeps into the silence
The snow makes everything still
The traffic is muted, passing on air
Children play on, unaging
In the white moments of snowfall
Wild creatures perch on their nerves
Ploughmen and mailmen, pause unaccustomed
To know the effect and the call.
Simple, imploding in song
Unknowing of its disturbance
Transformation will come... but here in its time
Snow makes all that is lonely, belong
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem