Thanks God – all remains with me.
Fountain - pen, a sheet of paper.
Snowstorm’s drone behind the wall.
And a band of night’s lights, may be.
Thanks God – everything is mine:
night, the star in blue, the lot.
Quiet – and being all around.
On the window-pane hoar frost.
Thanks God – nobody to pay,
give advice, or an account…
And mute stars’ golden cover
shakes the darkness of the night.
Here, amidst the silent snows,
such deep quiet – my reward.
Thanks God, that for nothing more
I am asking from You, Lord.