When winter comes, snow does abound
And roses are not to be found,
Then O my love, do I miss them?
No, your rosy cheeks are around.
When day's warmth and brightness is gone,
Do I night's cold darkness bemoan?
No, my love, your thoughts keep me warm,
To me a new light you have shown.
When nightingale is no more heard,
Its tunes are by all remembered,
Then do I miss its sweetest songs?
No, sweeter to me is your word.
When sky is clouded, I can't see
The stars that I watch with much glee,
I don't miss them when I glance at
Your eyes sparkling enchantingly.
When my imagination flies
Too high and is lost in the skies,
Do I wail that my hope is dead?
No, ‘cause in your bosom it dies.
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