The snow chapel,

A blizzard raging,

The common juniper in the Kesazawa forest

Fir trees    larch    the quartz river

Seen from the window

Hidden dots in a snowy gorge

A small lake 

Of icy spring water    the gully and 

Scree slopes avalanches carved

And the field of rhododendrons and snow poppies

Where in the summer I saw

Roe deer and aporia hippia 

All indistinguishable from the snow like ashes

The grace of snow cornice 

Printed along the ridge of 

The mountain of the God    the Paper

The eyes burning at the north face,

Turning inward, and the crevasse’s 

Torn feelings

Only the sunrise 

And the golden ripples of 

Mars Whiskey have colors

Neither the eyes    nor the fingers can touch

But the heart can touch

All the invisible lights

Blowing softly in snow 

The dream letters 

Wrapped in the ears,

Invisible, even if turning around