Flowers hidden under covers, roots beneath the blankets
of a coldly earth and bitter winter
waiting for their springly mother
to release them from their comforter
But now the flora is comatose
blossoming only in icy rose,
that dominates this dreadsome place,
what coarsely, cruelly captivates
the yonder lonely garden gates.
What for rain, for clouds of stains
on summer sky that I would pay,
to be rid these ghoulish days!
chalky grains that fall-cascade,
death to dirt, pestilence to petals,
wintry war has marred earth to metal,
a milky substance that is ungrown,
because it is simply too cold.
Dream for daze! And dazed to dreams,
obliterate how I perceive,
of pessimistic colder things!
I\'ll see the skeleton trees
with a brand new type of leaf,
like teardrops clear and meandering
down bark that\'s only napping,
The flowers are growing, roses of ice,
on a ground so rich and ripe
so full of frozen and fertilized,
I see it now, I realize.