I could hear as the rigid solitude knocked on my window,
I stand up with my trembling legs and look out through the glazier blot.
Dark towers of the night looming, mantle the Moon's light
Of which fairies were buried by fiend of the shadow.
The beast huddled,
And with that, solitude also forsakaned me.
Emptiness, that I became,
Like a void spirit,
Who is silently striked by the devistating fist of scarcity.
Since the Moon was locked up in a faraway cage...
Shoreless the dark night, which burns between us,
And racking me for an endless time.
I am a bird, which pursuing its warmth,
And flying trough the stiffed mainlands.
I am a sunflower, which lives for the Sun
And nervously golden colour of it
feared from others.
I am an asterisk, which devouted to the Moon
And relishing its dim beams.
But I would rather be a shooting star once,
Than a callow craven.
I would rather wait among Time's grains of sand that snaring backwards,
Than becoming a desolate corner of life.
I wish the solid smoke of darkness would just fade away,
So my blinking eyes would know where to reach for you.
Frigid the scrapering, destitute nothingness.
Only you could smelt me, like the sunny sky a bird.
Deprivation of yours is devouring me,
Like affection my sanity.
Please bring back the Moon,
Because the night is perishing my Sun.
