The small pine groves are filled with snow.
The big sequoia trees are scattered high and low.
The salon is trimmed with wreaths,
The men and women are many and beautiful.

In this gilded salon,
In this avalon of red and green,
By the blue and white quilts, pillows, curtains,
By the fire and timber:
I ask you and myself.

Is it for the books, music, coffee and tea?
Is it for you and me?
Quote
Am I supposed to love you?
Why am I here with you?
End Quote

Is it for my golden face and hands or your golden hair?
Is it for your golden necklace or golden earring?
The gilded holidays are running over.
The memories are to fickle forever.
Let the gilded pearls shimmer,
And become your new necklace and errings,
After your gold and mine,
Are smelt together,
By the fire and timber,
In this avalon of red and green.

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O is it nice to be
Here with this beauty over me?
O beauty are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love?
End Quote