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Writer's pictureSzilágyi Amália

Bright time


The jingle of bells and the frosty atmosphere

Always herald the approach of a new year.

Fragrance of cinnamon spreads rapidly in the air,

And countless candles illuminate your way

To solemnity, where all your fears disappear.


Suddenly, a snowflake falls into your palm,

You observe it meticulously, could it be a star?

That left its fellows to join up with humanity,

That shatters hopes and fights over territory,

Just like a shooting star once did in ancient history.


You see merry children peeking out the window,

You notice a sleigh dashing through the snow,

And familiar faces start gathering around you,

In your consciousness their love and the vanishing sorrow,

So why does my mind repeat that I am alone in the snow?


Szilágyi Amália X.R


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