Intrepid these winds that swirl through the listless night,
On white marble clouds that coalesce in silence
They carry a certain malice,
Surging forward from the deep ocean far
These winds in the cold gloom
No deliverance they send, nor compassion
Just the grey looming vapors of the coming Winter
Gathering from afar,
A stark panorama in exhausting frames of vision,
I stand beneath their medieval fury.