Luna

Image by: Henri Daumier

Don't hide from me, my moon,

I've watched you so many times before.

And each time you've shown me things

I've forgotten a long time ago.

Once I was a young girl,

and my love was far away.

Each night, I would look at you

and in your light, I saw his face.

Blowing a kiss at you, I knew

it would reach those lips.

He would laugh when I would

with sheer belief, call you a woman.

"You're my moon, my woman."

As I grew older and love faded,

I could not bear to look at you.

I had no love, and I felt you

would mock my loneliness

on nights when you were

pale yellow and high.

That is your splendour,

your glittering dance in gold,

the eye of all crowds,

the glass of wine, the heel in the sky.

When I saw you crimson and low,

it brought only sadness

I never saw you blue,

maybe I never wanted to.

But tonight, I looked at you again,

still so beautiful, melting like butter

in hot soup; wanted to devour you,

my moon, like a man quenched with desire

You stirred in me all that I had hidden

Then you teased me again, disappearing

behind your veil, igniting my passion.

Could it be you just smiled?

Could it be I lied?

Maybe I'm still a woman,

Maybe you're still my moon.

Maybe as I blow a kiss tonight,

It'll bring me back to you.