A December Afternoon
It was a cold day
clouds big as icebergs looked like pregnant cattle
seeking the sun but were dragged away
by the mordant winter wind.
Normally clouds are great performers they can do
drawings on the blue sky and paint faces and look
like castles and animals,
all depending on your mood, the size of the cloud and
the strengths of the wind.
For without the wind clouds are helpless, drifting on sky-ocean
like Mary Celeste, a ship abandoned while
the dinner in the galley was still hot, salt beef and dumplings
and caramel pudding, - I made the pudding up.-
Far for me to moralise, but all I want for Christmas is You.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem