Trzeba teraz w snieg uwierzyc?– Boleslaw Lesmian
We wake, and pull the curtains back.
Once more the world is black-and-white
(or white-and-black).
“How can all change overnight?”
(you ask me) “How?”
I answer (and I fear I’m right):
“It’s snow we must believe in now.”
A father and his son, we walk.
You take my hand, warm in a glove.
Our footsteps creak.
How can they, on such soft stuff?
(you wonder) How?
I wonder too and if, my love,
it’s snow we must believe in now?
Travelling at the speed of light,
we make our way through galaxies;
to left and right:
stars a child could almost seize!
Amazing how
we navigate these cosmic seas
(this snow we must believe in now)!
Our skylight frames a silent film,
an animated swirling show:
white flecks of foam
that fall and rise (now fast, now slow).
Just look at how
they change their minds – and how they glow!
It’s snow we must believe in now.
So wake, and pull the curtains back
to find a world that’s black-and-white
(or white-and-black).
“How can all change overnight?”
(you’ll ask then) “How?”
Then answer (and your answer’s right):
“It’s snow we must believe in now.”
