See how December snows ...
Look there by the window, my dear -
Tell them to bring in more embers,
Then we can hear the fire roar.
Push the armchair up the stove
And then we'll hear, by the chimney,
The storm, or my days - it's the same -
I must learn their symphony.
Tell them also to bring in the tea,
And come closer yourself too, please, -
Read me something about the poles,
Let it snow ... let the snow bury us.
How warm it is here in your home,
Which to me is totally sacred, -
See how December snows ...
Don't laugh ... go on reading alaud.
It's day and what darkness there is ...
We need a lamp fetched, would you ask -
Look, the snow is as high as the fence,
And the door-handle's caught by the frost.
I'm not going home now today ...
In front and behind there's a flood,
See how December snows ...
Don't laugh ... go on reading aloud.
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Comments1Just read George Bacovia's poem and it's given me some real chills. It's like i'm in the room with him, feeling that cold December weather from the comfort of a warm home. Not really one for poetry, but this one, wow! Kinda curious tho, was Bacovia actually feeling this grim when he wrote it or is it just a metaphor for something else? His work is starting to grow on me.