The deeper snow.
Always the light is growing.
A pleasure to unfold.
Above the aching sky was fractured.
In winter
All the songs are collected
By the birds.
Then the cold world is again
My horse and hope.
My talent is majestic attitude.
Let decoration be the signature
Of the silent face.
As the cold night air is dusty somehow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem