It was dark, the moon shone bright,

the green meadow was covered in snow,

when a carriage sped by lightning-fast,

slowly turning the corner.

Inside, people were standing seated,

deep in silent conversation,

when a shot rabbit

went ice-skating on the sandy bank.

And a blond-haired young man

with coal-black hair

sat on a green box,

which was painted red.

Next to him, an old spinster,

barely sixteen years old,

held a butter roll in her hand,

which was smeared with lard.

#poetry