When it’s cold I miss everything warm
rømmegrøt sprinkled with cinnamon
berry juice steaming in a mug

It’s the shivering
that makes me hurt
for your coat of friendship
your porridge of passion

When it’s hot I want to play
and when I play
I miss nothing
I am sufficiently fulfilled

When it’s hot
I forget about us
and the arguments
and the affair

When it’s cold
I remember your beautiful teeth
and how you played piano
with gloves on