Not only pictures

From time to time I commit something literature alike, so this is one of the texts I wrote some time ago and recently translated:

At Snow Queen's

The clacking noise of high heels once bounced – gets back

Before a cool breath fights the way through the furry barricades

Before it'll freeze into the icicle garlands at the top of the ceiling

It is not true I've got an empty house – I'm a queen after all

I spared no expense in getting furniture: chairs, armchairs, couches,

chaise lounges, tableware, golden fittings and handles

Why did you pull your hand back then?

'Cause there's no fire place?!

But there are the mirrors instead – Their Highnesses Crystals

Frozen in the beauty and perfection

The clacking noise of high heels echoed from all the walls

As a cry of despair runs towards the windows

Where the panes of Venetian glass brightly shine

It's not my fault, so what was that all about then?

The carpets made the fragile icy floor melt

And you didn't have follow me, you know,

I've never forced you to do anything

I'm not bad, maybe just a little tired and deafened al ready

But I was glad, seriously, I was really glad

There was nothing to be afraid of, wasn't it?

You knew so well what to do, learning quickly

To sit only on the couches, do not take your shoes off

When you're rearranging the mirrors and silvers

Somehow that clacking noise of high heels was getting quietened down

as well as my migraine

and that annoying ringing of icicles startlingly played along the sound of

forks, suddenly broken glass, sheets of paper strewn all over

How did she guess? Did she figure it out by herself? Or was it because of the shine?

And why did she come here, anyway?

The migraine tears apart my head

and the clacking noise of high heels bounced once

with the unbearable tempest, strikes me down