Cold is the night, and breathless is the moon
The wolf howls his tribute
The pitch is tortured and lovely

Sputtering out silver gasps
And letting them materialize in the sky
Cold is the night, and breathless is the moon

A thousand fir pines brush against each other
And each movement is shrill and shivering
The pitch is tortured and lovely

The snow is grey like slate,
The clouds hang like iron chains
Cold is the night, and breathless is the moon

The bitter wind leaves a dull stinging
It hisses at the encounter of skin
The pitch is tortured and lovely

By the iced stream, a man anchors a woman’s feet
And pushes her off the bank
Cold is his heart, and breathless is her weeping
The pitch is tortured and lovely