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The days have grown darker |
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and clouds are hanging low. |
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The hills once spread lush and green |
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snow's falling where the roads have been. |
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So little her confidence |
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but still she walks strong. |
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I'm born from the season's dance |
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to men I belong. |
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Winter's alive, one splintered soul |
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no heartbeat inside. |
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Breathing the cold, uncertain stride |
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trying to feel, to be next to her. |
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The cold is coming closer |
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and the harmony is lost, |
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This burden that lies on my soul |
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and in my hand my people's hope. |
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My maiden's uneasiness, her anxiety, |
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to put all those fears to rest is a task given to me. |
