from the morning
I am bustling about still
in the dressing-gown,
looking by the window.
this weather doesn't please me.
I like the sun and the warmth.
And here only to watch
how frost more firmly will press
and an ice dancing will b
when it will end
we will be witnesses
of the melt
and unpredictable situations,
because it is so already
that it cannot be quite
well where it isn't
to the end - and isn't
I am looking at the calendar and joy
is seizing me because
how many days
I can see before us how many sheet
of papers for tearing out
of the calendar...
and what's more is optimistic.
they will continue only enough long
for are needed but then...
to the wind...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem