The Peasant And The Moon

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

Through forests,

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.