Mela Blizzard, twisting the lantern swinging,
February creaked, prickly, dirty nastoy,
He was angry and trumpeted, everything in the way of sweeping away,
Passers - by and dogs-all in flight turning.
He drove wildly, he drove furiously,
He was maddened, Baring his body -
Whistling, kicking, howling, crying with frustration,
He knew he had to go, he didn't want to, but he knew what he had to do.
Knew it was time, the forest path over the hill to the churchyard-
The moon is already full, having gained strength of growth.
The grain is scattered - goes earth to earth...
The shroud is ready, bearing & nbsp; peace in itself!
Creaked February, everyone was angry, her cheeks blew,
He ran about the yards, pestilent, at full speed...,
And I lay, quiet, weak, in a mess of pillows and blankets,
February was wheezing - he didn't know it.
You brought me tea with raspberries, and you brought it without,
You said, " it's necessary for a sick body...»
"Walked" behind me so gently so skillfully...
And I was sick - maybe a paradox-and I was sick and I wanted you...
Written February 24, 1984