The winter winds’re
called by old wizards.
The snowy wings
wave in the sky.
Look, we are in
for blowing blizzards.
They all will leave
damp leaves behind.
They’ll cover them
by a crystal blanket.
The cruel storm
will tear it off.
But once again
the calm will land and
the morn will call
my lonely love.
It will return
from the land of autumn,
where we once learnt
the words of love.
The winter winds
will bring your photo
into my dreams,
so bright and slow.
Moscow
June 10, 2005