Snow has not borne
a rose left behind

Snow evokes the earth
but is only a space

Roses remain standing
like a query of
why and how:

Roses become stars
become lithesome, naked dancers

In a group portrait
of Japanese fervour?

Balancing, aloft
taking bows

Bent the same way
by the wind and the snow

Thorns freezing
and –make no mistake- thorns
bear witness to a might

The lightest of cranes in snow;
stems in pure ascent

Serrated roses
with gloved hands, sun-eyes
serrations into a space

A single leaf-sheaf
fanning into shreds

Shadows dart in jest from
dour austerity

The highest black star
dreams of directing
“the ballet of snow”

To Birgitte Thorlacius’ Etching ”Winter Roses”. By Lene Henningsen      © Lene Henningsen
Translation Copyright © Gordon Walmsley