Is the rain shy to fall in winter?
I know my hands won’t come out to play
And I miss them, I miss them
I’m covered by lots of wool,
Not my mother’s baked cookies
Though they always burn. I want it
The smell of home
But cold and its bristle wind,
My mother stays in bed
Why is the sun waking before me?
I miss it, though I curse it
I miss it, I saw my face brightly all day
Now I’m shivering, drinking hesitantly
Winter, last only for a month
You’re not my friend, where I live
It never even snows
My father stopped drinking,
I’m grateful for only this bit
Being truthful, I’m more grateful
He’s back to staying silent, like he ever
Spoke to me. Yes winter, you at least
Made my mother happy with this
Though now I have to do more cooking
I bought a dress I’ll wear once the leaves are green
Not for a man but for my skin to say hello
Wool itches, it suffocates
Why aren’t you being lenient?
Is it because of jealousy?
Many leave you and mourn
I can be sympathetic but, but you’re so cold
The wind is stiff, the wind
Cold winter, cold
You miss the happy sun, don’t you?