What frightened it
To stick out
As frozen quite;
Icy-pale?
Twig and its bird!
If now unheard
Vale on vale.
Known in these parts
At these times
Wind-raised, with shrieks
Hill-rushing
Whom spite-balls pitch
That most loathed witch
Hope-crushing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem