Say it: "Verdant fir, you dark celestial angel."
Say it poignantly. Unmockingly. With grace.
Words infuse the air with white enchanted circles.
Don't observe the manner of your voice or face.
Stars that never tarnish, pious Christmas light
lay their curses on a land already damned.
All too clear the end, the start not yet in sight.
Nations scattered at the slightest gust of wind.
`Til death's magic mountain rises and explodes,
wear the century like a dark engagement ring.
All is possible. This too, that heaven's host
may rally from its ashes without warning.
Translated by Gabriella Mirollo and Talvi Laev
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.