Print of the Garden II

The Moon widow
who could forget her?
Dreaming that Earth
might be crystal.

Furious and pallid
wishing the sea to sleep
combing her long hair
with cries of coral.

Her tresses of glass
who could forget them?
In her breast the hundred
lips of a fountain.

Spears of giant
surges guard her
by the still waves
of sea-flats.

But the Moon Moon
when will she return?
The curtain of wind
trembles without ceasing.

The Moon widow
who could forget her?
Dreaming that Earth
might be crystal.