Oh winter, dear winter
what have you done
He slipped on the pavement,
smashed brittle bone
Oh winter, dear winter
what will you do
Will you freeze his house pipes,
will you thaw and burst too
Will you freeze his bones,
while he lies in bed
in two thousand and ten,
he was nearly dead
he was seventy years old,
Belfast was thirteen below
he stared at the gas fire,
imagined the glow
he didn’t dare,
switch it on
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
fear is not living poignant I enjoy your style very much