Winter Song

Winter Song

I would gladly rise and go:
The street is white; the icy bushes fling
Forth crystal rainbows. I could walk below
And praise each tiny thing.

Moments will shatter all too fast,
And millions murdered never will revive;
And shall I come to tell myself at last
I never was alive?

I shall rise and go to see
The snowfall, and to hear the ice's crack
A moment; but I shall not soon be free
Of griefs to call me back.