Ontem os campos eram somente cinzentos com neve dispersada, e agora o mais longo grama-deixa emerge mal; Contudo seus passos profundos marcam a neve, e vo sobre para os pinhos no verge branco dos montes.
Eu no posso v-la, desde que o scarf branco da nvoa obscurece a madeira escura e o cu alaranjado maante; Mas est esperando, mim sabe, impatient e frio, sobs da metade esforando-se em seu sigh frosty.
Porque vir assim prontamente, quando deve saber que somente a mais prxima ao farewell inevitvel; O monte ngreme, na neve que minhas etapas so lentas porque vem, quando sabe o que eu tenho que dizer?
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