Winter shines upon those with less fear,

Less fear to listen to what might One overhear,

Overhear the whispers in the marshes

In the lake,

Ferries whistle by; people never cry;

Put your slippers on and march on water,

Skid; swerve and delve

Into the murderous silence of the ice.

Cold is the hour, hope the illusion;

Mighty swords, Knightly hoards,

All but “a dream with in a dream”.

Flakes touch thy soul and sole,

Yet never dare to catch the Heart

Frozen by a million lies;

Cursed by a minion sighs;

Floated among lost selves,

Hades lost for words among the cold.

What is desire never fulfilled,

But a distraction, to be thrilled;

Close those drapes upon thy lamps,

Hale in all never seen,

World can wait; Time can slow;

Names get lost in the hallow

Vale, this cold darkness.

Published by Zohre Baghban