Delightful, after all the wind and frost
to warm myself beside the fire;
but there I failed to guard my heart
and someone stole it in desire.
The New Year celebrations linger,
the roses’ stems are soft and moist;
but in my breast no longer sings
the whirring of dragonflies’ wings.
O, it’s not hard to guess the thief:
I knew him straightway by his eyes.
My fear is that he’ll come back soon
and return his purloined prize.