round ivory

darling moon resting on the hammock of clouds

swirling its cold mist on her silver rounds

caressing it gently, oh how i love to touch

but I'm immortal, not mighty, fool's dream as such.

dream a dreamer's dream, hopeless it seem.

to touch her goddess, no hope, not a dim.

thus, what to do this fainting heart?

if in all it's beauty did my languidness start,

for my ambition is so high like her throne,

to touch her with affection is my dream alone.

oh, how bleak! how foolish, how sick!

and contemplating this dream, saddens my frolic.

buries all my merriment in a deep grave,

and no her, no way can it's corpse be saved.

and so, with all my words and tunes and art,

i'll bridge them all to you, 

and no wind, no storm, no sun can keep us apart,

for them are offered with love so strong and true.

if them are the way, the way alone,

to hide my sorrow, to this god made of stone,

let them be! and all shall be offered,

my heart, my art and soul, 

my happiness, my pains i suffered,

let them be all for you my goddess of stone!

and when i surrender to sleep tonight, let in my dreams,

your eyes, yet cold and nonchalant, with love be shown.