In a tomb, near a captivating moonlight
In a dungeon, with the damp dimly foliage, in stones
There is a manuscript mentoring us with questions:

How much shine has been torn from the sky?
How many ships have got tangled in the nets?
How many depressed eye sockets
Turned to the pale disk of moon?
How many questions did they ask her?
At all times
How long has she been indulgent towards us?
At all times

At all times, worshipping the stars
Trusting in closure and salvation
They look deeply in there, at the inspired moon
And the same inmost dreams gradually come back
But nobody thinks that she can suffer too