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I was singing like a bird |
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From my porch just to hear |
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My own voice echo in the canyon |
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When she appeared before me |
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Protected from the cold |
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Ringing with the echo in her heart |
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She walked up to the porch |
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And I sang a good bit further |
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Until we both sat there in silence |
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I asked her to my living room |
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A place where we can warm our bones |
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She said, but I am warmed by the singing |
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And I can hear my husbandman |
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Returning from his labor |
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And I have no food on the table |
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As quick as she came earlier |
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She went back to the forest |
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With a trail of roses behind her |
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It snowed for many weeks |
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Until I couldn't see the forest |
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And the blush had faded from the roses |
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And while it dropped I worked a lot |
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To gather wood and keep it hot |
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And clear the porch off for singing |
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It was brighter than the other nights |
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The snow was filled with moonlight |
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There was not a sound in the canyon |
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So I sang softly o my old song |
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Building for a time so long |
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Until my echo traveled through the forest |
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And there she was standing there |
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The moonlight in her auburn hair |
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Completely protected from the cold |
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And all about her in the snow |
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Ruby red and black as coal |
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Roses had blossomed all around her |
