F. L. Čelakovský (1799–1852)
How sad the winter seems this year,
The sombre winter days.
As if the world, before my eyes,
Were wrapped in misty haze.
Now every road and every path
Is blanketed with snow.
The paths where once we two, my love,
Together used to go.
And everywhere I feel myself
With weariness oppressed.
For yearning eats away my heart,
And tears it from my breast.
I feel just as a bird must feel
That settles on the ground,
And in the snow, poor creature, sits,
And looks for seeds around.
He looks, he looks for seeds around,
But never finds he one:
And so for me, without my love,
The winter cold comes on.