I remember driving alone
In my car on a mountain road.
I hear a distant rumbling moan,
And look above to where it's snowed,
Covering the steep mountain side.
High up the slope, I see a wall
Of white, pulled in a mighty tide.
I gun the car into a stall,
And just stare upward, helplessly,
Knowing there is nowhere to go.
The avalanche envelopes me,
In blackness under all that snow.
I wonder if I will survive.
Here, I just sit, buried alive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem