When the last ice
Of this old winter,
Which seemed to know the secret
Of eternal life,
Melts carefully away,
I will wake up
From sleep
/
And when the sun, forgetful,
Warms again towards
The grey, exhausted Earth,
When rains of spring
Have washed it clean of sorrow,
I will remember
My face
/
When nights fill slowly
With songs of love and heartbreak,
And days become
But impatient rehearsals
For warm evenings,
I will recall
My age
/
When trees, like ocean tides,
With life and power swell,
When eyes begin to hurt from all
The beauty before them,
I’ll look at my white hands,
My hair, like frozen waves,
And call myself at last
/
By my forgotten name;
I’ll tell myself:
‘Go back to sleep,
Oh ancient,
Ancient Winter’
Just a beautiful verse.
Thank you! Happy you liked it!
The older I get , its thought become more meaningful.
I think, this poem is about someone, who doesn’t enjoy getting older, so they forget that they are. Eventually, however, they, too, must remember and accept it.