The sleet comes tinkling down in a whispered melody
A white rain in a still, sleeping world
That turns to crystal the bare, brown branches
Of the silent slumbering trees.
The few yellow leaves clinging to the frozen boughs
Are glazed with glass-clear ice
Their fragile loveliness preserved
In a gleaming, jeweled sheath.
The frosty pines glitter like gumdrops,
Their needles dusted with sparkling sugar
shine with a flashing silvery light
Encrusted with gems of frozen rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely portrayal of falling hailstones, nicely encapsulated and well written with conviction. You're got a knack for writing and nature. Thanks for sharing Sylvia.