Just before dawn
I look through the window, and I think I understand
That it has stopped snowing. A blue puddle
Spreads, sparkling a little, in front of the trees,
From one end to the other of the night.

I go out.
I cautiously go down the wooden stairs
Where the fresh snow has levelled the steps.
The cold surrounds and penetrates my ankles,
It seems that my mind is clearer because of it,
Which perceives better the silence of things.

He is still sleeping
In the confusion of the pile of wood
Ricked under the window,
The chipmunk, our simple neighbour,
Or is he already roaming in the crunchy cold?
I see tiny marks in front of the door.