Now it is summer and
across crescent moon light
the mist hangs heavy.
Before the dawning sun
a silent night of time
plays a song of fog.
The world brings no sorrow if
you imagine it akin
to luminous dew.
Now it is summer and
across crescent moon light
the mist hangs heavy.
Before the dawning sun
a silent night of time
plays a song of fog.
The world brings no sorrow if
you imagine it akin
to luminous dew.
