The hunter's moon, its reddish glow
Replaced the golden gleam of the forgiving sun.
The hunted sits on his rocking chair,
Pensive, dreaming, remembering.
The darkness of his study is disturbed
When a ray of the scarlet moon,
Playfully enters through the battered window
And rests, mockingly, upon his collection of Goethe's.
The smell of incense from a spectral source
Fills the room with dreams and nightmares.
He sees the image of someone he has long known.
Her visage dim but fair; his face, scared and pale.
Her shadow slides along the walls until it stands behind him.
She leans forward and whispers into his ear.
The playful ray of crimson glow passes by,
Leaving the room again in apathetic darkness.