Mid the woodland moonlit flakes halo each tree,
Coat the branches, mummified with sheets of snow.
Gleaning with sparks like little winks, night falls.
Every leaf parted, every green gone:
Summer lush and warm breezes
Faintly dimmed ‘till no more.
The birdsong feathers with silence.
The moon coldly nests its craters in the sky:
Cradled on it back, flying without wings.
A pale soul called forth from earthly shadows.
Shine not on this scene.
In the final bend sunlight awaits...now rise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem