Poem in English and French 

Merry-Go-Round 

When winter nips our noses, frozen fingers thaw from frost, 
In vain we cry, “Oh summer, how came your warm days lost.” 
Then summer with its stifling heat returns to parch our throats, 
And we can't wait till winter to don our duffel coats. 

 

Le Carrousel 

En ete, vous songer, 
Que vous aimez l'hiver. 
En hiver, au contraire, 
L'ete maintenant est cher.

1 comment

  • Ivan  E. Argueta
    Ivan E. Argueta
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