Snowflakes fell, landing upon
the dilapidated body of man,
dressed not for the occasion
but for vanity and economic,
well, political and other success.
They all melted at once, watery,
their grave was unimportant, not,
as you would have expected,
of any significance at all.
But they all came from a womb,
leaving reluctantly perhaps
and aimed to make a place
in this world for all, and themselves.
And then, in a sudden explosion,
clarity was the fall-out, heavy but,
for all intents, benign, necessary.
It was found, through consensus
that no flakes ever did make a difference.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem