Late in the evening, when fires burn bright,
Sparks float above the fallen snow.
A lonely fair maiden stares at the light,
Watching her many dreams aglow.
Winter's dream, winter's dream
(Cold, cold, winter's eve)
Bread made this morning in ovens of stone,
Crumbs on the tabletop remain.
Wine made from cherries she's drinking alone,
Spilling her memories like rain.
A shawl spun from cotton, linen and flax
Covered the maiden where she lay.
Consciousness passing, over and back,
Keeping the furies all at bay.
The maiden wakes slowly, there's ash in her hair.
The soft glow of embers strike her bed.
Demeter's young daughter accepts Hades' care,
A cold winter's reverie ahead.