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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-11-03 | [Aestu textŭ lipseashti s-hibâ dghivâsitŭ tu english] | Ânyrâpsitŭ tu bibliotecâ di Lory Cristea
See how December snows ...
Look there by the window, my dear - Tell them to bring in more embers, Then we can hear the fire roar. Push the armchair up the stove And then we'll hear, by the chimney, The storm, or my days - it's the same - I must learn their symphony. Tell them also to bring in the tea, And come closer yourself too, please, - Read me something about the poles, Let it snow ... let the snow bury us. How warm it is here in your home, Which to me is totally sacred, - See how December snows ... Don't laugh ... go on reading alaud. It's day and what darkness there is ... We need a lamp fetched, would you ask - Look, the snow is as high as the fence, And the door-handle's caught by the frost. I'm not going home now today ... In front and behind there's a flood, See how December snows ... Don't laugh ... go on reading aloud.
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