In the dire obscurity of another dark February, there lowers a fog of uncertainty
On a thin gasp of wind known only to me
My shivering sigh spreads a shadow far and wide
The frigid, leaden sky remains immobile, petrified
I attempt to seek out the source of this ancient curse by bad-tempered Gods
Of how the Moon keeps on its course without being stopped by the cries of dogs
Oh my love, I am freezing in my marble dressing gown
Cold, the oldest season, hold me when the sun goes down
As this hesitant haze, it deepens, under a blanket of doubt, I've been sleeping
Here, our deterioration begins
Where the tears that are wept are kept for safe-keeping
They say it will come to an end
Then all things will begin again
In this eggshell atmosphere, which is so very thin
20 thousand million copper needles begin vibrating...
My frigidity has been eclipsed by the severity of my trembling lips
Although I locked my heart at dusk, I will open it again when the light comes in
Oh my love, I'm freezing in my marble dressing gown
Cold, the oldest season, hold me when the sun goes down