Gone, the last holiday,
Another year passed away.
Now our taxes we must pay,
Cold and gray marks the day.
Barren trees and icy ground,
Not much pleasure to be found,
Winter holds us in its grip,
As icy winds howl and rip.
Move with caution all a-round,
Train whistles a lonly sound.
If only I was half my age,
I’d ride to warmth, with my wage.
But for now I will light the fire,
And spin warm dreams as I retire,
To dream of sun that burns like fire,
Of heat and sweat that I’ll soon tire.
Oh, please just let the winter pass,
For now I long to mow the grass.
Human nature’s a fickle lass,
We long for what we can not grasp.
We may wish this time to past,
But life's time moves much too fast.
So look for joy, ignore the cold and pain,
We all know January’s sad refrain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
January has thirty one days, within which to fit thirty one poems. This one comes in on 31st, but not necessarily at 31st. Lovely poem somehow.