A look through my window

The tardy train passing me by,
Sliding over the clunky bridge,
The smell of ice far from the east,
Brought by the wind from the Carpathian ridge.

Floating along the vineyard slope,
The turbid Danube silently roars,
An old fisherman ting his boat,
Among the poplars, on puddly shores.

The mist has spread, leaving the room,
For the winter sun and its frosty rays,
Flying over the frozen soil,
Waiting for summer and fruitful days.

The market slowly opens its gates,
The murmurs below announce the day,
Time gently seeps in through my window,
Panta rhei, panta rhei...