The doves coo for a mating call
I hold our umbrella with profound gall
For when Eros’ teardrops fell from the skies
I’d bear the brunt, put on a front
And give you our umbrella, just to dry your eyes

So, when winter comes and I call out your name
The cold of your nature dulls my flame
Fortune changes and shifts the tapestry
Thus, I pray for a kiss, and cling on to bliss
And sheath my heart, in vain, just to escape this tragedy