It’s snowing in the bright house

the house of my dream

is heaped up with snow and

wherever I go 

I meet you in the same season

in winter that’s reading you

in winter that’s rereading me

(oh, summer heat

parched water, oh)

while snowing

while I put

fresh bread in the furnace

while I take the chestnuts out of the ember

snow falls in the bright house

in the house that dreams of me frozen

absent and distant

with eyes of frosty sky

warmly closed with your bindings.