white curtain came
in very slow crawl
like painter's brush
erasing shadows, trees
fogging my eye glasses
cold, wet to my hands
floats at tree lines
dew hangs like crystals
on blades of grass glitter
one by one drops to ground
but I can't see, gloomy
I let it pass; but stay
it's getting colder; nice
few more degrees drop; ice
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem