Snow Fall

In the midst of cool valley
White stones with wrath fall
Force everything to home
Turning our black path
And brown fingers of trees
into white.
Around our path
The sky jazzed mountains stand
From their top sun endeavours
to awake.
Outside our cottage we wander
To collect the dry sticks in vain
And listen shrieks of golden leaves
Under our feet
Separated from boughs 
and thrown with scorn
Time turns for everyone
We hope the sun will arise
with its soothing light and warmth
to please this land to give birth again
these beautiful leaves
and to burn our furnace
It will arise.