The Peasant And The Moon
The Peasant And The Moon2 mins 155 2 mins 155
Once there lived a peasant,
All alone in the world,
He would sit on his window sill
At night and write letters to the moon.
Though he was alone,
He was happy to return home,
After a whole day, working in the field
He would come home to his beloved
Whose light in the cold night
Warmed his soul,
Truly he was never alone.
One day as he was admiring the moon,
He was blinded by silver light,
When he opened his eyes
A woman in a white frock,
Was in front of him
In the open valley,
Singing with a voice of melancholy.
As he trod towards her, she noticed
And waltzed in the nearby forest,
And he saw her slowly,
Vanishing in the moonlight
In the forest break, flooded with roses.
The peasant chased and chased
Sailed amongst the seas,
Every night, he would wish
To see her again
The moon that descended from heavens,
A pale face with large eyes,
Freckled cheeks and pale pink lips,
She glowed with the silver light
Like the moon in the dark night.
He traveled for so long
Yet nowhere did he find
The love he always sought.
And again he would sit all night alone,
In a cottage along the countryside
With open valleys around,
Now he admires the moon,
Sitting on his window sill, waiting,
For his heavenly beauty to come.