Asleep is dark earth before coming spring
Under a helmet of a white frosty song,
The brow of waking is still quite long
Before forest birds again will here sing;
Songs to summer and colors forward bring
To a night which has thread through the drong,
For now into light the day's coming strong
From under its blue collar winter's wing.
Ah sleepy thoughts and hanging northern stars:
All wonderful into their memory's flight,
Of yesterdays gone once more to the mist;
Not showing off their ridden lifelong scars,
Nor what was once for them of wrong or right
When they too were threading life's turning twist
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem