The moon is up, a mystery begins
And a nightingale spreads out his wings.
The ashen light
From the moon so bright
And darkened shadows
In the forest they gather.
The silhouettes are seen
But yet so concealed.
Sounds, so vague
Though they are not the same
As in a day.
The illuminated squares
Of the magic forest, shares
The wild beauty, yet so invisible.
You feel the dream of paradise;
The fragrance of the unfurled blossoms
And the sight of dispersed light,
Becoming unbeliavebly visible.
...why! It's just an illusion of perfection,
Showing up its starlight reflection.