love-song to rasputitsa

a love poem to Russia's winters!

the cold, the hail, the snow,
sing, you lords, dance, bacchante,
your graces and airs will mean little enough.

come autumn we laid the maidens down,
gold coins on their eyes,
we spoke kind words, our lips smiled,
come the crown and kingdom come,
the summer fell gold dust to us,
but all you twist, don't you, love?

come shiver and bones, creak and groan,
and softly, softly, comes your queen--
O cold and clawing Rasputitsa,
love of my life, light of my life!
she tears her hair out,
her mouth is a bloody gash
and she seizes your heart,
and who are you, not to bow?
white, red--
lady of the windswept waste
we'll keen and dance the day away
and toss their longing to the wind,
and O, how the mighty bow to you!

nonpareil.