Winter!... The countryman, enchanted,/
Breaks a new passage with his sleigh;/
His nag has smelt the snow, and planted/
A shambling hoof along the way;/
A saucy kibítka is slicing/
Its furrow through the powdery icing;/
The driver sits and cuts a dash/
In sheepskin coat with scarlet sash./
Here comes the yard-boy, who has chosen/
His pup to grace the sledge, while he/
Becomes a horse for all to see;/
The rogue has got a finger frozen:/
It hurts, he laughs, and all in vain/
His mother taps the window-pane./

Alexander Pushkin - Eugene Onegin. Chapter 5, II

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