The Snowman Poem by Marieta Maglas

The snowman was confused and didn't know why

passion and reason were in balance.
Last week, he had to face a lot of snow.
He wanted to know how many
snowflakes were there already.
The snowman understood
the pure joy of life.

The rain began to fall and
the snow melted.
He wanted to feel the weight of life
on his shoulders.
Joined in to be there.
Now, he shines like demitasse.
He knows he has
nowhere differently to go.

He tries to separate
nature and freedom,
two different forms of
looking at effects
that cannot work together.
Admires the long black cars
and the white trees.
Sees the sky in the evening,
the daylight in the morning,
and this insignificant world.
He cannot perceive the night.

For him, the beauty of
the effects is simple and pure.
Tries to figure out the difference between
being alive and living ever.
Feels the first snowflake
fairy falling on his heart.
Clinging to the darkness of the night.
Thinking that the whole world is
confusing and
incomprehensible.

Tries to understand
the difference between
the feelings within and
the reality around.

He begins to wake up.



Poem by Marieta Maglas

Variant:

The snowman doesn't know why

the reasons are balanced perfectly by feelings.

He was dealing last week with a snowstorm

wondering how many snowflakes could fall.

The snowman thinks of

the pure joy of being alive.



Now, the rain comes down in trickles to melt the snow,

and he wants to let all the weight of fall to the ground

and to become a part of it.

He shines like porcelain now,

and he knows that he has nowhere else to go.



He makes an effort to distinguish between

these two incommensurable realms, nature and freedom.

He examines the black hearses spanning out of white.



He discovers the twilight sky, the rising sun,

and this inconsequential world.

He understands that flourish of innocence and simplicity.

He makes an effort to distinguish between

his own immortality and his existence.



The snowflakes begin to fall so softly upon his icy heart.

The gentle snowflakes begin to fall again.

A blackbird starts to hang the darkness of the night.



The whole world constitutes for him a

great ambiguity and elusiveness.

He remains tightly closed with his owner inside.



Significantly, the night begins to kill the day's seconds.

He makes an effort to distinguish between

The ineliminable input of external and internal sensations.

He begins to have his own consciousness.