My impression of “Snow’ a short story/poem by Ann Beattie
Four prints hovered the snow, and dragged
Over country fields, winter sky.
One home, two hearts, and visitors,
Dwelled in, what’s now a quiet spring.
The charm of love, every heart rings,
Before the snow measured their kiss.
Clueless of where the heart that bent,
Could hide beyond the shroud of snow.
People came and told their stories
To please old tales, cold snow molded.
Peeling onions in reddened eyes,
Outsiders fancied tears that’d bond.
Upon hard ground, a trowel fell,
To grow a rose in winter’s breath,
While winter season seized the fields,
What life exists in one small rose?
All witnessed pretty fallen snow,
And never heard the plow gone by,
Love glommed for that, no longer yearns,
Years quickly faded, moments stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really liked the imagery in this piece, and especially how you paid attention to meter, not many poets do anymore. I enjoyed it, keep it up.