The door-latch is always stubborn
beyond it dozes a beast
tinged by the fire
they know who is walking
the curve of the road
by their footsteps alone
glance at the fancy lamp
hanging from the sooty ceiling
a green and speckled plant withers
a child who has wandered cries
beneath a long low sky
and at last the snow comes on.

Translated By Roddy Lumsden