A few winters ago
in the cold and misty air,
I heard the wind howled
like a storm coming to strike,
and I heard your voice,
fighting through the wind,
laboriously reaching my ears,
say my name kindly, kindly,
before we say goodbye,
goodbye.

Many winters now,
I hear the wind
howls the same each year
by my window night
like a storm strikes and kills.
But in these winters air,
cold, damp, and cruel,
I hear your voice no more,
no more.

I see you sometimes in my dreams
and I wake up in the morning,
the birds sing the same,
the sun shines the same,
the breeze blows the same,
the world still goes on
like everyone ages every day.
But in this winter air,
cold, damp, and lazy,
I would rather
steal a precious moment,
swim back to the dreams
to hear your voice once more,
once more.