(Letting your nightsnow glimmer,

calming the storm while ice snare branches)

And it is winterstill

in sprucewhisper above fleetingly singing ices,

in thousands of frozen tarns inside forest glades

Winterfelled,

rime grabs hold of the branchery

like we hear our groaning steps silenced

Listen.

Be quiet now, snowfall,

here, beside the spruce, the winterbird eats for its life

while Death want to say something about the sorrows

― I was the one born unto snow in a permanent thaw,

one the world skyembraced instrewn splintered answers

and left me to be remained, long lasting as tender snow,

one so aloned, leaving all my sorrow over wrong graves

In tears taking the dead heart in front of the sick

The last sight endearing land of blood and stones

and squint over this too thin-sown beauty

frosty nights caught frozen in shined darkness

Want to own myself nothing beyond rest, endtime dozed away,

wanted something higher the flames of will sent burnt in here

In tears taking the living heart in front of the dead

A WINTERFELT MOUNTAIN