First Snow

I am a subscriber to this online poetry forum called Minstrels, where I receive a poem by mail almost everyday. The poem I received on 12th November goes like this :

People

No people are uninteresting.
Their fate is like the chronicle of planets.

Nothing in them is not particular,
and planet is dissimilar from planet.

And if a man lived in obscurity
making his friends in that obscurity
obscurity is not uninteresting.

To each his world is private,
and in that world one excellent minute.

And in that world one tragic minute.
These are private.

In any man who dies there dies with him
his first snow and kiss and fight.
It goes with him.

There are left books and bridges
and painted canvas and machinery.
Whose fate is to survive.

But what has gone is also not nothing:
by the rule of the game something has gone.
Not people die but worlds die in them.
-- Yevgeny Yevtushenko

The poem itself if very beautiful and it concurs with my philosophy, but what makes it all the more special is that it mentions "his first snow" . By a strange coincidence, I DID experience my first snow-fall on the same day I got this poem in my mailbox!! There is something magical about "the first snow". Its biting cold, yet you want to venture out and play with the snow flakes. Others around you will have their umbrellas open, but you won't be able to get yourself to open yours. There's an inexplicabe elation. The poet could not have been more correct. I'm now waiting for my first kiss ;-)