An attempt on wintery poetry.
Ireland, (Éire in Irish Gaelic) is a big Island next to the United Kingdom, but it’s not a part of it. It’s important to remember that, because not everyone speaking English is actually from England and Irish people might find that offensive.
You could assume I speak English, maybe Norwegian but what else? Is it even worth to learn languages? What do I think about studying languages?
Or rather: welcome, winter.
Short days, harsh rains and wind, the wind that blows without break, just breaking branches alongside its way.
Another week, another poem. Enjoy!
A poem for the rainy days of October. First Norwegian (original), then its translation in English.