Our winters are hoary,
White on white wherever you look.
Long tales they tell us toddlers,
Evenings, in the parlor.

About a blizzard that gets you lost
And braids the sun clipped off.
The swan pumpkin
Bound for desert lands.

About wolf and white bear
And spells that devils come up with.
Waters splashing
Up from silver wells.

About the third son Jonas,
The proud horseman he is.
And Eglė, the watersnake's wife,
Whose children changed into trees.

And how the grieving orphan girl
Came empty-handed back,
How the pines wading big drifts
Found no way to climb out.

Thumbkins sleep in the drifts.
There are goldfish under the ice.
A witch will run across the snow
Without leaving tracks.

Good-natured as the orphan girl is,
Her stepmother stays mean ...
As Grandma nods off, so
The story stops short.