It Sways the Battle
The breath falls to the ground,
As a winter storm comes from the north,
Covering everything with frigid cold,
Blustering with pitiless death.
Yet against it, mighty spring,
Takes up life’s joy in its course,
Where ever it steps, springs up many shapes,
A brilliant confusion of beauty,
It is a race, a wager, a dare,
An exchange of sinking, of resurrection,
It sways the battle, undefeated,
Yet how will it go at the end?
-Mia Holm
translated by Joe Bandel
Anarchistbanjo's World 
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