As the embroidery of blazing,
Little stars fades with the dawn,
The silent damsel plunges,
Behind the curtain of the mountains.
Where are you now my little moon,
Hidden from everyone?
I will find you,
Huddled up somewhere, somehow...
As the day tries to light a pale,
And by now, cold aged time,
A tired sun stills searches,
For a lost friend known seasons ago.
Year after year,
As silent centuries have gone, have gone.
Hush... I turn around,
And you're still there... with me.