Frost from that distant snow
Breezing into my nares and brows
Blue, cold, lifeless and consuming
My brother, sneezing without a flinch.
His giggles, dominated by the clamorous
And yet so silent, air.
The same warm vapours, kids mock of smoking
The very laden gales, for which countrymen pry,
So they can smile, when the spectre shall cry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem