My head, pillows betwixt her breasts,
Finds warmth through frigid winter.
In luminous bliss, I rest,
No other dare to enter.
My head would be crushed
Had these mountains fallen;
Or be frozen on a rush
Till spring comes calling.
O how I wish this winter lingers so
To have my fill, with you still,
Like gentle rivers flow
Behind rugged hills.
Thus my head it shall remain
Even if a fire tempest rains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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