But I, as a fledgling fancies of flying,
With no pinion, longed for snow.
It's April when the wind goes out
For outings in a moment, and walls
Of the world change their hue soon.
It's gloom for every soul for a while,
Then coolness. Yet my heart wanted more, and I prayed for flakes, oh futility.
On a page of chemistry book
Walk for thousands of miles,
And for ages. You wouldn't
Stumble upon any river anywhere,
Even a tiny land, and a little dust.