around the fireplace – drinking, friendship and laughter that break the cold spell
in days so short, man should only sleep and have fun like animals do
are these the same fields that all summer long we played in? now they’re growing only frost it seems.
there is no redder shade of red than that of nandin berries against a sky of grey
you can hide from the cold, you can hide from the snow – but the withering wind has a sharp blow