It's winter.
The breath of life chokes in the cold.
The sky, heavy with sadness,
Wears its gray mourning shawl.

The earth, quiet and silent,
Hides her face beneath the snow.
And the sun, tired and pale,
Struggles in vain to shine.

No one knocks at your door,
No one seeks your warmth,
For the streets are frozen
And hearts are colder still.

Do not call out;
No one will answer.
The ears of the world
Are deaf to your voice.

It's winter,
The season of stillness,
The season of sorrow.