White snow melts in my palm as it drops,
As it drops from the vastness of mist;

My wrinkles soak up the moist like a thirsty old raven,
A thirsty old raven who've seen it all,
From the first bloom to the last leaf fall,
The last leaf fall yet not the very last one;

Many a winter will pass me by,
Pass me by as if I am a lonely road;
A foolish old road in dying cold
Still I wait with a heart long sold.