Winter Over Not That Big a Street
.
.
It began since yesterday to fall
A mere flake
Now it stayed.
Clouds have got their revenge more or less
Towards twilight, yet they gather
Over the peasantry.
-

It’s not sun, but it’s good
On the river, only smoke.
The fart’s quiet now,
But impetous petty pilgrim
On the road.
-

Are children with many sledges
From the coast they come screaming,
They [...]