It was mid-winters' when I passed
A forest with birches amassed,
Felt they in pensive clusters stood
A sight I never understood;
A soft carpet laid out below
Of sleet and undulating snow,
As if a satin shroud was spread
Mourning over a forest dead;
Lost wilderness claiming its stakes
With freezing skies and downing flakes,
A glum breeze whispering around
Which I thought was a mourning sound;
Of some burial in progress
Only birches stood to impress,
Then I knew what the woods hath said
It meant I be pastor instead;
I knew less of this urge I felt
Beneath a snowy birch I knelt,
Crossed my heart in a candid plea
Muttering soft an elegy;
Said prayers in my frosty breath
Surrounded by a sea of death,
No sadder sight I felt could see
Enshrined with deep melancholy;
Shall never know why then I cried
No beloved I knew had died,
The birches stood in silent grace
Their shadows in a cold embrace;
I knew they wanted I be fine
A feeling so hard to define,
Then dusk soothed with soft twilight
Perhaps it wanted I be light;
The dead entombed I wound my day
Footprints etched on a somber way,
An epitaph engraved on snow
For dusk to read and night to know.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful imagery. Felt the sadness beneath the surface of your words in a gentle rhythm that brought tears to fall upon a vision in a forest of birch trees. Grew up in New Jersey, love birch trees! Love your poem, touches the heart of memory! Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn
Dear Roseann, I had replied to your little note earlier, but wonder why it does not show up. This reply is to thank you for your kind and moving words. I have put you on my friend list, for only poets can make a world that befits another poet. Keep writing your beautiful verses. Regards, Amar