A Winter s Canzonet

In Saint Petersburg, snow is so special now—
Light as breath, and transparent as slivers of glass.
It has quieted time on its wearisome pass,
It is dancing a canzonet, graceful and slow,
Drifting down on the shoulders of houses asleep,
To a rhythm that only the heavens would know,
Full of tender lost words that the quiet will keep.

[Chorus]
Oh, this snow… like a watercolor view,
White on white on a canvas so clear.
Now the world is so simple and bright and sincere,
Like an echo of childhood returning to you.
Can you hear? Frozen strings where the snowy dust clings,
Softly drifts this ethereal blues.
In each crystalline tear that the winter wind brings—
Joy of hope and the sorrow we never could lose.

Look how silently falls this embroidery veil
On the granite paved stones and the roofs fast asleep.
Yesterday's cold January takes sail,
And the sky rises higher, transparent and deep.
In this whisper there's neither resentment nor fear,
Only tenderness we never managed to claim.
On the frosted glass, portraits of old reappear,
And the heart feels a little bit warmed by the flame.

Through the blizzard we walk without touching the ground,
In this porcelain chime, in this radiant white.
All the words we once kept and had never quite found,
Snow has gathered and warmed in our hands cold and tight.
Let guitar softly play through the winter's dim haze,
Every plucked string replying to storm and to snow.
In this world wrapped in white, under winter's soft gaze,
It’s so easy to smile as we walk through this glow.

[Chorus]
Oh, this snow… like a watercolor view,
White on white on a canvas so clear.
Now the world is so simple and bright and sincere,
Like an echo of childhood returning to you.
Can you hear? Frozen strings where the snowy dust clings,
Softly drifts this ethereal blues.
In each crystalline tear that the winter wind brings—
Joy of hope and eternity’s taste we pursue.