February. To get some ink and cry!
To write about February in sobs,
While rumbling slush is
Burning with the wet-black soils.
To get a horse-cab. For six grivnas,
Through peal of bells and click of wheels
To be conveyed where the showers
Are noisier than ink and tears.
Where like the charcoaled pears,
Off those trees the thousand rooks
Will tear off into the puddles and
Rain dry sorrow down my eyes.
Under it black is melting through,
And wind is ravished with the calls.
The more they random, more they truly
The poems are rhyming in the sobs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.