ADVENT

December without snow, look, see, Prague’s lace is waiting,

see, horses for you to silver their harnesses wait!

Let, like fine cutlery, far-sparkle, unabating,

snow-eyelashed cornices and the wrought-iron grate!

The snow-eyelashed cornices and the wrought-iron grates,

stone gowns of statues and the lanterns standing still…

As lower and lower white mist settling permeates,

I yearn to see, oh Prague, that vision made to thrill.

Over your palaces and orchestra of spires

I want to see outstretched silences’ flowing pall.

What glee, to hear a child shout: “Snow!” That never tires.

The distance echoing back from afar: “Snow fall!”

December obdurate, look, see, Prague’s waiting, waiting

that some soft garland in your raw-boned frost be found,

waiting with anxiousness, far-eyed anticipating,

waiting, still waiting, yet, just like the land around.