I hate the holidays,
This wretched season when the light grows short,
And every man abandons his brother for the relatives
he ran away from long ago.
The devil sneaks in during these cold hard days,
Kidnapping the weak and lonely among the sheep,
While the well adjusted feast with their worldly blood,
And rejoice in their good cheer and bright spirits.
When the ice is on the ground,
And your presents are under the tree,
and help me up from the ruins,
of everyone’s abandonment.