One of the boys I'm tutoring has to learn a new poem every month. He has to learn it by heart and recite it in front of the class. The children have a choice between 4 poems every month - I have to admit that this boy always chooses the shortest one, lol.
This month he chose a poem about winter. It's quite lovely, and goes like this (translated of course)
Winter is coming, killer of the poor people.
Like a cruel baron sending his sergeants ahead as a warning, frost, white fingers of ice and a harsh wind.
We hear the children's loud breath as they run with their hands on their faces, their feet hitting the hard ground.
Even the dogs, unable to scent, flee like arrows...
But how lovely the first frost!
The window whipped by the cold outside,
sparkles beneath delicate crystals
and shimmers beneath the mother of pearl-like micas,
Whose design blooms like arced acanthus leaves on the panes.
The trees wear crackling silk.
The sky has the thin look of pale old silver.
I have a hard time translating poetry, and I'm trying to give the general idea of the peice. It really is quite lovely.
Well, the boys have arrived so I better go see what homework they have to do!