The earth glistens with rosettes of snow

the sun still rises in myriad hues

Nightingales seek refuge in barren trees

to mourn February’s last refrain.

Contrails light the wings of birds

that flit beneath lit sills of doors

settle softly into winters chill

shelter in a pale blue bed

Translation by Bernd @ Neues Vom Hutschi

Der letzte Kehrreim
Die Erde ist Pulverschnee.
Die Sonne geht auf in unzähligen Farben.
Nachtigall suchen Zuflucht in meinem Schrank,
beklagen den letzten Kehrreim des Dezembers.
Weiße Streifen blitzen hinter den Flügeln der Häher,
die durch die beleuchtete Türöffnung flitzen,
sich sanft in die Januar-Kälte setzen,
Geborgenheit finden in einem hellen Winterbett.

59 thoughts on “Last Refrain

  1. A lovely ode to winter’s last refrain. I have already seen the tulip trees and others begin to bloom. I hope not too early. Spring isn’t quit here yet, but it’s coming in wet and wild.

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      1. It is a useful zentastic pastime to project ourselves into awe inspiring natural scenes. It’s what makes life and writing so vivid. We had just a few flurries but I don’t have to travel more than an hour to get into some real mountains and snow. I always loved that Florida remained colorful year long. I remember a lot of winter beach time just lying in the sand dunes on a blanket soaking up the sun and listening to the surf and gulls.

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