My sweet friend, and in this quiet home,
Beats a fever me, the same.
I can't find a place in quiet home
By its always peaceful flame!

Voices sing, a blizzard calls, I hear,
Comfort is my cross....
E'en behind your shoulders, oh my dear,
Someone's eyes wait for me close!

There, behind your shoulders so quiet,
The wings' tremble I feel,
Pierces me with his look of a fire
The storms' angel - Israfil!