Every new year meeting,
Waiting for miracles, as children we are.
Christmas tree bright dress up,
In the Windows of the snowy hills.
The waltz we are dancing snowflakes,
It's like a round dance.
Outside the window the ice froze,
Turned the puddles to ice.
Children have fun on a sled,
With slides rush ice.
The mittens and ear flaps,
Along the paths of the lace.
The laughter, the fun, the joy of meeting,
Loud echoes are distributed.
And snowflakes on everyone's shoulders,
Fall and melt.
I'm sitting with hot tea,
Watching from the window.
A snowflake melts on the glass,
A pity... not eternal it.
Snezhana Kochieva (2020)