The days turn shorter,
Their lifespan declined,
The sun grows too weary,
His strength undermined,
To begin with his voyage,
Alongside the sky,
For nature itself,
Starts slowly to die.
The crystalline craft,
Of winterqueen's breath,
Turns the landscape,
Into coldness and death,
For soon all have fallen,
To dreamless a rest,
With hope for the future,
That springtime will best,
The glacial might,
Of wintery rest.