Slash its curtain's drop through;
Snowy and gauzy.
No hut, under a collar
For its own split eaves
Hunched down, as in what cowers!
Peasant's ghost for grieves.
Of ice, what's boarded up
By Winter condemned.
Dont be fooled! Eyes, scrape harder
Whilst each window scan.
Ampler roomed, more heart-warming:
Hearth-lit; man, woman.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem