Gustaf I Ett Saltkar

When autumn approach,
and the frightful breeze,
touches your skin-
think of me.

When winter comes,
with its sparkling, white snow,
incumbent on the ground-
think of me.

Because I will,
think of you.
In the coldest of autumn days
I’ll think of you.
In the coldest of winter days
I’ll think of you.

So think of me,
and I’ll think of you.
And we
will think
of us.