Because there are so many months of winter
Because there are so many months
When nothing grows and nothing will
Ups and downs
Snow piles and potholes
Freezing and thawing
Walking and falling.
When you asked about the method
Of handling tons
Of pure white snow
Meticulously piled
Flake upon flade
Inch by inch
Covering everything.
I told you
There is no method
You may attack the subject ruthlessly
With front end loader and truck
Putter away with a shovel
Level it with a grader
Scoop it with a scoop
Blow it with a blower
There is no method
It's a regional abstraction
As varied as the winters
And the number of storms per year.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem