Cold wails howls at me again,
reminding thee of winters fridge winds,
does not wish to end,
black sky with faint whips of dusty white,
pass on by fast into the night,
cold to the bone maybe just one more fight,
Nordic gods in flight,
bowing to the angles of spring.
and to the warming light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem