I kneel at your grave in the snow
and a lovely bouquet I bring you.
I whisper a verse, soft and low
and an evergreen love-song I sing you.
But as icicles dropp from your Stone,
I spurn the chill breezes that freeze you,
and as I walk away all on my own,
I pray that in dreams I may see you.
I repeat a very sweet comment
in praise of my poem...
'The warmth within your heart
melts the coldest ice, and brings
the summer winds of comfort'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem