A full moon, and a bearish fur,
And dancing bells in the distance …
Frivolous hour!—For me too
An innermost hour.
I managed a headwind for me,
Snow appeased my view,
On the hillside a monastery bright
In the snow—holy.
Snowflakes on our sable covered breasts
Hold me close, friend,
I look at the tree,—in the field
And at the lunar cycle.
Because of our padded shoulders
Our two heads do not meet.
This starts me, Oh God—dreaming,
I envision—us.