This snow, this snow...
I know! I know!
I hate all this white stuff...
Enough is enough!
It can be formed and hurled fast to knock off some one's hat...
It can even be aimed, at a dog or a cat.
I would never do that, though...
I would never hurl a ball of snow!
At some unsuspecting one...
Not Me! No such fun!
This white stuff can be used to build a fort...
It can also be used to down hill ski, as a winter, Olympic, sport.
This stuff, can be rolled, to make a man...
A man of snow, that You, can.
This stuff is as cold as ice...
Whiter, than the whitest rice.
Whatever You decide to do...
Don't get stuck in a car, in a storm,
or You'll have had to ask Yourself, who, knew?
Don't forget about snow blindness...
It can make You quite, the sightless.
The Sun reflects, off it nice...
It can kill and freeze, just like ice.
I hate, the snow, the snow! ...
I know this more, I know, I know!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem