A little before noon
I felt she was coming. I waited.
She came. She passed. I was as though
The Moon had passed
Along this strange path
I have walked since birth.

The all-green belljar
Of my breast darkened.

Night of kindhearted May.
There goes the Moon passing by.
There is indeed a refraction
That winds round my neck
The scarf of the Milky Way
And the Moon over my hand.

Bur when I seek to enjoy
The beautiful touch of moonlight,
And stroke with my hand my fingers…
I have to admit my delusion.
It was the lie of the senses,
It was the dew. Nothing more.
It came. I passed. It was as though
The Moon…

I sigh and am a child again.
— What do you want, Mario? — Mother,
I want the Moon! — Impossible today,
She has already gone. Be patient,
I will give you the Moon tomorrow.

And I wait. You wait… He waits…
Oh, beans!