Our tree has frozen in the snow,
its branches are now burdened low,
The waters let their corpses fall,
freezing and burying all.
Like a fog the snow rolls in,
birds fly through as the blizzard begins,
a sea of white covering the land,
proclaiming the King of winter grand.
The heavenly snow is our Delight,
and fills our world with resonating light,
with peaceful Silence floating in the wind,
healing our tree that has been skinned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.