The field, its blanket of snow
and blinding whiteness
surrounds me.
The wet chill, the cold
cutting into me - my thoughts.
The vastness, I am but
a speck.
The deadness of color, a desolate
plain - numbs your mind.
I am the only color, the only life.
In the cold
I find the meaning of
loneliness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent imagery. You have painted a fine word landscape of a winter day. It makes me feel nostalgic. Kind regards, Sandra