The Perfect Snowboard

The flake-fine powder snow
lies on the valley on slope.
On two boards?
No! On one I stand!

The board that plows through the snow,
sharp-edge curves cut.
And I feed myself,
when driving slaloms across the slope.

Adrenalin pulses in my veins,
when racing on the edge,
driving on the edge,
then the board loses itself in the sky.

Free-floating, angelic freedom,
in free flight…
After I dropped,
I found myself in the hospital.