In the land of blue snow there are no trees:
only the shadows of trees and the names of trees
written by a somber hermit in the writing of the blind.
In the hall of mirrors not a single person is left:
only profiles cut out by the cutter of Tilsit fair,
and silhouettes traced on the dusty glass by the fingers
of the dead violinist late in the evening of All Souls.
In the valley of the ebbing rivers there is no birthplace:
only long rows of barracks, wooden sphinxes
with their sooty heads on their paws, dreaming
of flags, summer, sun and sand.
In the land of blue snow only names remain,
lines and drawings and letters remain on ashes.
In the land of blue snow there is no land.
(Henrikas Nagys)
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Based on Topics: Soul Poems, Nature Poems, Fairness Poems, Summer Poems, Dreaming Poems, Writing PoemsBased on Keywords: barracks, silhouettes, cutter, sphinxes, profiles, violinist, tilsit