time to die
time to shake it off
like an earthen clock
stretching its hands
to embrace
the peak and the tower
December is not
season of search
by a winter breathed in
frozen in its spell
thirteenth time for ever
to hold on to
the peak and the tower
December is not
vigil killing kill
swords broken crossed
in token frost of boughs
and make some fire
for a mountain whisper
born on calendar capital
letters of peak and power
December is not
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem