" You sit by the window
and it is snowing--
your hair is white
and your hands--
but in both mirrors
of your white face
summer has been maintained:
Land for meadows raised into the invisible--
potions for shadow deer at night.

But mourning I sink into your whiteness,
your snow--
which life leaves ever so quietly
as after a prayer is spoken to the end--

O to fall asleep in your snow
with all my grief in the fiery breath of the world.

While the delicate lines on your brow
drown already in the ocean of night
for a new birth. "

― Nelly Sachs , Collected Poems I: (1944-1949)