I think the older I get, the more I hate the cold.
Ok, so what was a beautiful winter. But it would still reach perfect, when the snow and the cold would be the 1st Advent to Epiphany. At least me and then use a nice winter, as in a picture book.
the November I find particularly terrible.
I've heard yet on Friday, a perfect poem for the November and my current Stummung on the radio ;-)
November
November, black month you always
thou come again, do not give peace
send us new thirty days
Dark and gloomy gray plague. Lead internet café pale pallor in the cheeks
Do hang sad faces
Planted countless
care for depression unplayable ground
you break the light with sticky mist
lift with nasty rain level
Lets the winds roar horribly
in our long underwear.
you slimy creep us ran
But we know clearly when
torture evil threatens your
latest when dog waste
Aqueous squeezed on tree foliage
In our rubber soles.
November, We can not fault char
beastly to your breath
On our Teppichbodem expensive.
November, old Leichenschänder
Go! Tell me! You throw ne able
schnapps to your death day?
Have as many as no other
carcass Prince, execrable
Will unrestrained us again
torment With Prayer Day, All Souls
And this year, alas, it is even greißlig
With the death of the strong protective wall
of the Ninth your thirty
Eight long year period
Much has died too soon.
November, sack, you shall die!
best with the pack of clowns
The Wake up to your Eleventh
With Humba, chicken dance and cheers -
Maybe even bring consolation December
And raised you with heavy frost.
I come to the end with the poem:
November, are an ass face!
Fritz Eckenga
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