The lamentations of Fall have disappeared,
The innocence of Winter is born,
Leaves disintegrating in presences of God,
The preciousness of Winter is here-by sworn.
Eight-thousand moons circle the emerging earth,
Pursuing light to see a sparkling treasure,
Of the plentiful moons against glorious snow,
Speaking of merriment, speaking of pleasure.
Snow so precious, a calling of names;
From earth itself, cascading,
Bringing memories of Angels,
Never forgetting, yet ever fading.
Setting comfortably amongst the earth,
Hugging the ground with helplessness,
Whispering to it, singing praise,
To the ground the snow will caress.
Eight-thousand emotions of the moon,
Talking to them guiltily, hangs over snow,
Whispering of their sorries,
As from the sky snow gently flows.
A beautiful sight, shining with joy,
Sharing stories of love and care,
Whispering of inspiring innocence,
Amongst the snow so bright and fair.