Winter dies like a martyr
The fire of the sun lapping at it’s pure, white robe
I am not sad to see it burn
My heart jumps for joy
Birds, as if emerging from a frozen spell, cry out in songs of happiness and love
Flitting through the air like a million glad tidings of spring
The robin, red breasted and proud, is the symbol
The surface, hard and slick
Has reduced itself to liquid
The boat, stuck in the winter plains
Is once again freed
The fish can now leap out of the water
Like water rabbits, searching for the sun
Die, you cold, icy martyr
Fade away like the thaw
Do not return, please
Although I know you won’t comply
You are always reborn, much to my contempt
You, icy martyr, are my discontent
|