In Christmas time the tears take a break,
far from attenuated dreams of sorrow.
I sip my wine of charm and sanity,
like any other poet commonly misplaced.
Is it this world of mystical appearance,
so grave I cannot let it go?
Is it the miracle of birth embedded
in our hopes and fears,
unraveled in a splendid journey
through timeless memories?
I wish you, poets, all the best,
and with my bow, I'll take a rest!