The freezing wind, it sweeps the land,

Leaving it cold and bare,

With nothing left but cold white sand,

And no more warmth to care.

Ice drips from the leaf-less trees,

And there’s a cold beauty here,

But all the ice-cold winter sees,

Is the empty land so dear.

No creatures frolic in the cold,

None dare to play now,

But only the most care-free and bold,

Dare to climb into the bough.

Snow, it’s called, blankets the earth,

Sucking out all warmth,

No trace left of the centre’s hearth,

No heat is now called forth.

This winter, it fills the land’s soul,

It covers all and everything,

Nothing I can condole,

What will this dying winter bring?

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