Habituation time

Winter, yes, it is winter:
Mother Holle shakes out beds
Children go completely pleasedly home
- freely of cold-!
Snowman is built quite fast and cars which resist the smoothness on the streets.
How they strive quickly to the earth: the small, big flakes which melt, nevertheless, if my hand it wanders.
Stripes? And I wander from the tracks of the recollection when
frosty my face was still, it was freezing so badly and anyhow all that has not been glad me.
Yes, I longed on big mountain for warm sand, for heat of the summer always over and over again...

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