Give me my winter full of rain,
With frost upon the window pane,
Collecting firewood by day,
Listening to every word you say.
When the stars are bright
To trouble the night,
The moon she passes through the deep
While you and I are fast asleep.
So shall I lie with you my dear,
Who is my heart, and is my soul,
Who gifts to me a light so clear,
In ways that ever make me whole.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem