The winter poem
On a winter night when the moon is crying,
the water bowl in the upper neck freezes,
but my grandmother embraces the
young me in the blanket
and mumbles over and over again.
The beggars in the marketplace will be fine tonight,
or the door next to the salt shed won’t freeze and die.
Ah I used to fall asleep listening to
the most beautiful poetry recitation on earth
Cold wind,
go to sleep
I didn’t know it was cold even in the middle of winter,
and I stole tears in a sad song and
fell asleep like a young roe on a snowy mountain.
