White Dusk# Translation - 译林
h*e
1 楼
The fog is freezing on the trees and shrubs;
Each tendril of the larch is edged with lace;
The tiniest twigs are filigreed with frost;
There is faint movement through an open space --
And lovely white ghosts wake mysteriously
Like white thoughts smiling through gray memory
Each tendril of the larch is edged with lace;
The tiniest twigs are filigreed with frost;
There is faint movement through an open space --
And lovely white ghosts wake mysteriously
Like white thoughts smiling through gray memory