White people in white fur-coats
in a white wagon drawn by white horses.
Eight snow-covered hills of silence.
The sky has turned into a white board.
Huge waves of snow
make the landscape stumble.
Tired, on the verge of vertigo,
in order to give rest to his strained eyes,
he spilled some red wine on the snow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem