Scorched as a desert eagle,
trying to get to a cool river
to wash and soothe his dry feathers,
I shout to the sizzling Nature,
" Let sun rays turn into snowflakes! "
I must place the green mistletoe on my door,
hang silver bells on it and make them ring
when guests come in with heavy coats
draped with snow as their breaths steam...
oh, summer turn into winter!
Shivering as a boy who has built a tall snowman,
I rush into a home where delights are many:
presents stacked up under a freshly-cut Christmas Tree
as lights make me dream of that Holy Night in Bethlehem...
when baby Jesus lay asleep and angels surrounded Him!
Christmas is many months away,
and wouldn't Santa cheer up everyone tonight...
as he comes down from the snowy sky and crashes on his fat belly?
Everyone thinks that I am going insane by wishing Christmas in summer
by constantly yelling, " Let sun rays turn into snowflakes! "