In the darkest hours,
When the sun dares not awake,
The whimpering wind stirs not a leaf,
Thou wilt come...
Arising from the glowing horizon,
Light of a thousand moons',
Shattering darkness like a glass,
Pouring light into every crevasse...
Thou cometh...
With Imperial radiance,
Even the heavens bask in thy light.
O, my Moon! your beauty the world can't surpass.
Blessed I am
With thy sublime presence!


-Prats