There is a birch tree,
Standing at my window,
Covered with snow,
Like covered with silver frost.
On the furry branch
The ice is full.
Like a skirt made of snow—
The tassels sparkled.
Birch trees are shrouded in
Dreamy silence,
Golden Mars
Jump on the snowflake.
Sunset lazily
Shining around it,
Put more broken silver.
Spread all over the branches