Translation Comparison

There is something about winter that reminds you of your childhood, more directly and painfully than other seasons. In the blue-gray color of the snow, in the twilight of the rooms, in the raw, nose-squeezing smell of the stoves, there is something confidential and forever lost in all of this. The memory makes me shudder. The memory of childhood in winter is like a bleak, abandoned apartment from which everyone we loved has moved out, like an apartment from which the furniture has been taken away and which can no longer be heated.