Cold as the northern winds,
in December mornings,
cold is the cry that rings,
from this far distant shore.

Winter has come too late,
too close beside me.
How can I chase away,
all these tears deep inside.

I 'll wait, the sgns to come.
I'll find a way.
I will wait, the time to come.
I'll find a way home.

My light shall be the moon,
And my path - the ocean.
My guide the morning star
As I sail home to you.

I'll wait, the signs to come.
I'll find a way.
I will wait, the time to come.
I'll find a way home.

Who then, can warm my soul?
Who can quell my passion?
out of these dreams - a boat,
I will sail home to you.