In winter we travel in a small pink coach
With blue cushions,
Well installed, mad kisses nesting
In cosy corners

You'll close your eyes, not to see through the glass
The lear of dark evening,
Starling monster, droves of black demons,
Pack of black wolves

Then you'll feel something scratch against your cheek...
A little kiss, brief as a startled spider,
Will run up your neck...

You'll bow your head and say: "Find it for me!"
-And we'll take the time it takes to find that creature
-Which loves to travel...