The moon swoops down like a sickle unspoiled To harvest the twilight and sever the soil Darkness drips like sulphur and oil To lie in the ground with the tears of its toil Dusk has dwindled in the ration of hours Watch it flee and call it a coward Grim procession of grey that scours The turning hemisphere as it devours But don't look away Don't turn aside Fix your gaze With broken eyes Stars march forth like so many men Phosphorescent now and again Shadows casting shadows when Slumber calls out like a friend Your face tells of a distance unspanned Crossing the hollows in my hands Silhouettes in a single strand Pilgrims leaving their faraway lands But don't look away Don't turn aside Fix your gaze With broken eyes