The Winter cold

The poem explores womanly fears of love-tragedy after having found a man, and how despite of the expected damages calculated by the cerebrum, the heart's pleas remain painfully irresistible.

All of the doors I locked, all of the windows I closed,

All of the curtains I swept, and my hearth I kindled.

To be warm, a plentiful firewood of Pride I hoarded.

With a coarse "non-love" blanket, myself I shrouded.

And now here is you leaking to me from nowhere,

Like the winter cold, blowing swiftly everywhere.

My thick-furred coat of conceit you've penetrated,

Through my veins your charm tardily circulated.

Oh most beauteous winter cold ever benighted me,

Please tarry, now that you have gently caught me. 

Although I'm certain, you'd choose to leave away,

And in the midst of misery, you'd cast me someday.

My full of your fresh love strawberry, you'd trample.

And out of fields of our fertile memories, you'd scuffle,

My land you'd desert, and leave it a vast bleak fallow,

I'd curse a heart I followed, and led me to my gallow.

But, my postponed tragedy, I do not care about all of that,

So please tarry, I threw my blanket and stripped my coat.

I'm standing defenseless, and I might be in a complete nudity,

For a love tragedy is warmer than the irony of its nonentity.