The Last Day of A Winter
Adolf P.
Shvedchikov
There are no more winter’s fetters;
The old ice slowly melts.
There are no shackling belts,
There’s drizzling of the first rain.
And a cheerful brooks drain
Through a heavy settled snow.
How soothing to hear droplet’s
refrain
From thawing icicles in a row.
I like this turbid flow
Of violent spring’s reign,
When a weakened winter wanes,
And proudly caws the crow.