The girl with wintry clouds for hair
And shards of ice for eyes
And skin like freshly fallen snow
And cheeks red as sunrise
Her name I'm sure you've heard before
Cozied up by embers
The month of ice and cold and snow
None other than December
Cold and sharp as wint'r is she
And none can match her wit
She laughs at death; has zest for life
Her name she does quite fit
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem