โ€œ๐—ฑ๐—ฎ๐—ป ๐—ต๐—ผ๐—ผ๐—ฝ ๐—ถ๐—ธ ๐—ฑ๐—ฎ๐˜ ๐—ถ๐—ฒ๐—บ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐—ท๐—ฒ ๐—ฒ๐—ฒ๐—ป ๐˜๐—ฟ๐—ผ๐—ผ๐˜€๐˜๐—ท๐—ฎ๐˜€ ๐—ด๐—ฒ๐—ฒ๐—ณ๐˜โ€

A line from the end-of-year poem by Marrit Jellema, city poet of the municipality of Leeuwarden. She wrote the poem for those for whom happy holidays are not a given.

In the video, you can see Marrit handing out postcards with the poem printed on them. A small gift from the Municipality of Leeuwarden and Leeuwarden City of Literature.