1 The quiet snow
2 Will splotch
3 Each in the row of cedars
4 With a fine
5 And patient hand;
6 Numb the harshness,
7 Tangle of that swamp.
8 It does not say, The sun
9 Does these things another way.
10 Even on hats of walkers,
11 The air of noise
12 And street-car ledges
13 It does not know
14 There should be hurry.
'Thin ridges of land unploughed Along the tree-rows Covered with long cream grasses Wind-torn. Brown sand between them, Blue boughs above.' both stanzas of this poem are absolutely wonderful for me, so I find it incredible that the average vote is 5.2: (this is 10+++ definitely
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'The quiet snow Will splotch Each in the row of cedars With a fine And patient hand; Numb the harshness, Tangle of that swamp.' these are beautiful wonderful lines, so poignant yet transcending loneliness, the harshness of the landscape, Raymond is ahead of his time; why is the voting so low on this? again 10+++ for me