Zima

Used by the owner extravagantly, both the paper and quill wore out very quickly. After the owner moved to the exile land, replenishing this set of tools was no longer a possibility. Thus, the vast, pale snow became his paper. Thankfully, he never had the habit of preserving his work.

A bamboo cage, carefully woven for protection from the elements—enigmatic and spacious, with an air of secrecy and tranquility. It may make the owner seem lonely, but it is always full.

A parting gift from a poet friend. The scarf is well-made with smooth stitching and is very warm. The message that arrived with it reads "The dark wilderness hides a little beast running quietly."

Silent and unchanging, the winter jasmine hairpin bears witness to the passage of time. Like poetry, it is eternal in its beauty.

A grey-headed chickadee that lives on some remote island, it has a wide range of expressions and movements. A poetry lover, a social butterfly and зима's chief spokesbird.

Technically speaking, it is the real "зима."

Even though the poetry has changed since yesterday, the sparrow remains unchanged. Its song and flight continue to carry on through time, ever enduring.

During the time of the Russian Empire, the Tsar's policy of punitive reclamation had made inhospitable Siberia the most suitable place for exiled political prisoners and criminals. Handcuffed and shackled, the persecuted dissidents were escorted by the army to another world.

They set off from the prisons of the Peter and Paul Fortress, over the Ural Mountains, past the Siberian prisons, across the Tatar Strait, and then went straight to the place of tragedy which would linger in history for a long time to come.

A lonely poet, too, quietly set foot in this land of darkness.

Met an odd chickadee

Which bumped into my book of poems.

Besides the wind tonight,

We were there.

Four eyes staring straight at each other, occasionally

Listening to the sounds of the night.

It is chirping

At the convergence of the glacier and Venus.

It asked, "Are you alone?"

In the unexpected heavy snow,

Shivering as it soared in the sky,

While the man on the ground yawned,

"No, I have many friends!"

Pandora Wilson: You are able to communicate with animals without much trouble, yet have difficulty socializing. Do you feel ... regretful about this?

Zima: It's better ... this way.

Pandora Wilson: So, did you choose to be sent to this island that's isolated from the world?

Zima: No, but it's ... nice.

Pandora Wilson: I've read your poems in many places around the island. The animals seem to enjoy them.

Zima: Oh ...

Pandora Wilson: That's all for our interview today. I must say, you've worked very hard.

Zima: My ... my pleasure.

Pandora Wilson: I think I should choose someone more appropriate to interview next time, such as зима.