The cold will come
colouring the mountains,
painting white
the peaks
and drawing the slopes
with the winter sun.
It will silver the plains
and with frost and ice
will cover the meadows.
The cold will come
to change the sea
raising the foamy waves
and darkening the blue.
The cold will come
to clean the sky
flooding it with light
and transparent beauty.
The cold will come
and it will numb people
who will count the days
to see spring again.
25.12.'13
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem