In the depths of Winter's heart
Well past the hunting of the owl
The fury of the blizzard starts
Through the forest fierce winds howl
The snow drifts high upon the hills
Little warmth the cabin's bowels
Now bitter cold, the kind that kills
Breath freezes on the window pane
From cracks and chimney Arctic's chill
The snow so high no light remains
Huddled around the ember's glow
At last at dawn the storm clouds wane
To those numb inside, the melting slow
A brush with death this Winter snow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem