Wind
The wind is howling, angry, lonely,
In heavy silence of the night.
The first cold night after late summer,
Dark mist at last took over light.
And biting bitterly, the wind
Is numbing every face and hand:
Unhuman voice is laughing slowly,
From victory on barren land.
The magic ice has not yet come,
The sun for long will not be seen.
There's nothing left on empty world,
Except triumphant, bitter
wind.
