There's a hard wind blowing from the north;
And the wintertime has become so harsh.
Yet, I'll not worry, not for long, because
Long before the summertime comes again
I'll be gone.

For there's silver in my wings so strong.
If I spread them wide they’ll turn to iron;
And I will fly up to the sky and across the sea.
For there's alchemy for this silver in my wings.
Yes, I'll soon be gone.