I walked through your woods
Isolated by your lonely hue.
Each bough lower
Piled with your snow.
Dins and warmth
In their distant voice did sing
In this lonely woods
Echos paling.
I walked on in my woods
Into my own desolate view.
Each step deeper
My shoulders piling with snow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem