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If ever I would leave you, it wouldn't be in summer. Seeing you in summer, I never would go. Your hair streaks with sunlight, your lips red as clay. Your face with a luster that puts gold to shame. But if I ever leave you, how could it be in autumn? How I'd leave in autumn, I never would know. I've seen how you sparkle when fall hits the air. I know you in autumn, and I must be there. And could I leave you running merrily through the snow? Or on a wintry evening when you let the fires glow? If ever I would leave you, how could it be in springtime? Knowing how in spring I'd be wished by you so. Oh, no, not in springtime, summer, winter, or fall. No, never could I leave you at all.
