What are you doing, winter of my being


What are you doing, winter of my being,
sweet host always on guard
at the remotest corner of
the heavenly yard?

menacing thought,
with every instant growing at my temples snow
and pouring into my soul frost?

But I like you as I used to in my childhood
when time was as a sleigh with bells
and I was dipping my bare feet into your flakes
as in a dandelion’s down

Why are you, winter of my being,
making my mind go dull
my senses numb?

At times you grant me a moment of respite,
and when I can recover
even more ardently do I enjoy
the taste of life
my thought then fascinated
by the celestial dance

At times I feel like you,
when gently stroking the white snow,
departing then with the sunray,
forever floating on the wave

I know that soon I too shall leave −
arrival, then departure
this is the game is we’ve got to play,
I am pretending to ignore you, yet,
despite your making me freeze ever harder.