Hard as the bed in the earth
where a stone has lain,
so rough, so tough, and so cold,
Winter’s stranglehold
dumb numbs with callous hand.
Musty dusty as smell
of old earth on a vein,
oozing damp through its pores,
Winter’s white blanket is lain,
chilling me to the core
with fine filigree hair;
stealing sight from my eyes.
17 June 2006
The Shadow
Soft as the bed in the earth
Where a stone has lain,
So soft, so smooth and so cool,
Spring closes me in
With her arms and her hands.
Rich as the smell
Of new earth on a stone,
That has lain, breathing
The damp through its pores,
Spring closes me in
With her blossomy hair;
Brings dark to my eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem