Lodowaty poranek niezmiennie przywodzi mi na myśl średniowieczne poematy heroiczne, i fragment wiersza zapisany gdzieś na marginesie na pierwszym roku studiów, który jednoznacznie kojarzy mi się z chłodem szarego świtu i zsuwanej kołdry. Podobnie jak króciutka piosenka Anathemy którą polecam szczególnie o świcie.
Eng. On a misty, cold morning like today's I cannot help myself not to think about the heroic poems, and the following fragment that I have written somewhere on the marigin long ago, on the first year of my studies. The Old-English classes were at 8 A.M. and it took place during a really severe winter, so my imagination while listening to it worked really hard and the images I had before my eyes are now deeply rooted in my consciousness.
Along with this short Anathema's song I really recommend it for the cold winds of February.
I rose from bed at grey daybreak
With small bare-footed steps I go
Through the cold and through the snow
On empty sea I turned my gaze
While searching by the sun's first rays
For white sails filled with winter wind
Or your ship's bow come home again