The Snow Sifts Down

By

Sieved fine, the snow sifts down tonight

drifts down strand by strand.

It is a good time to talk of the past

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and reach out for your hand.

It's sweet to sit here in the dusk

not begrudging hours slipped by,

not fearing the dawn creeping up,

hiding in the eastern sky.

I don't feel time rushing on,

but sit un-clocked and slow,

hearing, like old lullabies,

your soft words fall like snow.

translated from the Armenian

by Diana Der-Hovanessian

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