Little White, what art thou?
Thy brothers and sisters
They fall on trees, the land,
And the palm of my hand.
Little White,
From whence didst thou come?
From heaven didst thou fall?
Dost thou belong to the angels?
Art thou the shine that dost dust their wings?
Or, from the silence thou createst here,
Perhaps thou art that which conceals the sound of angles flight,
And, as thou coverest the land,
Perhaps thou art that which conceals them from sight!
Little White,
Thy shine decorates the wind
And adorns the land
As it falls on trees, leaves,
And the palm of my hand.
