Crawling numbness
bitten his senses.
White death of
the icy land
whispered in his ear.
Half-closed eyes
caught Blueness of
the stoic sky.
Sky...so near!
'Am I smiling? '
he wondered.
Fleeting images formed
a speedy whirlpool.
A sudden jerk...
Someone pulling his body!
Wolf? ...or bear?
Dizzy brain
too numb to grasp.
Then the vision of a face.
Face rounded by fur.
Sensing the
sliding on ice.
Noe...he was drinking
something hot, tasty!
He looked for the Eskimo.
He was not there
but only speedy whirlpool
with fleeting images.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
vision of a face, sliding on ice. good one
Thanks Mishraji