Verse 1

At dawn the old stove wakes again,

Its iron ribs begin to glow.

Beyond the birch trees, snow and rain

Keep watch on roofs bowed low.

You left your towel beside the door,

Your wooden sandals by the wall.

I save your place beside the stove—

Some names outlive us all.

Pre-Chorus

The steam climbs slow, the rafters hold

The words we never got to say.

I warm the stones; I tend the fire;

I keep the winter far away.

Chorus

Koch Golda, the bathhouse is burning bright,

A small brave heart in the Ukrainian night.

Though grief weighs heavy and the years run cold,