ay now the tinkling bells’ resounding tone
stir up a whirl among the teeming clouds,
for it is time to build a whitened throne
upon the mountains wrapped in graying shrouds.
Oh, dash into the valley’s sunless scope,
ye gales, and plaster up the naked slope;
A song breathtaking and ensorcelling,
in honor of the generous blizzard, sing;
adorn the trees with hoar frost, high and low;
and glaze the rifts in pathways, wide and deep,
fill up the foundry’s vats with freezing snow,
and let the springtide, at the doorstep, sleep…
ye gales, and plaster up the naked slope;
A song breathtaking and ensorcelling,
in honor of the generous blizzard, sing;
adorn the trees with hoar frost, high and low;
and glaze the rifts in pathways, wide and deep,
fill up the foundry’s vats with freezing snow,
and let the springtide, at the doorstep, sleep…
Copyright © by Wiesław Musiałowski 15/10/2001
