As the bluejay of day perches beside blackbird night,
Our two hearts hammer, yet the world stays quiet.
If the moon falls silent, wrapped in twilit shroud,
Even our whispers seem piercingly loud.
When the bear constellations retreat into sleep,
A grey wolf haze stalks the woods, dark and deep.
The valley gleams with frost, yet your arms give me warmth.
You are my compass, my true love, my true north.
