With the fires in
Deep of the snows
That thaw so
Do not melt
Ice-blocks crystalline
Where the intensity of white
Hides the blocks
The hoar locks
And
Of frost the arched shrine
Burning fires of cold
Wrath in the limbs
Even of Prometheus
Bearded white and long-beard
Trudging in snow
Now sinking a little
Rising always
For Age has not
Vanquished the fire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem