Sickle moons have shone above me
In the dark of night,
Standing on the mountain edges
Writing by their light.
Fall with eagle wings of colour
Soared the starry skies,
Called its sickle moon of copper
To enchant my eyes.
Winter passed with silent footsteps
In one silent night,
left the world a stainless canvass
And a moon of white.
Spring woke as an early blossom
Blooming in the snow
never was there such an artist
Made a green moon grow.
Summer, daughter of the morning
Let the world behold,
As her fingers formed the perfect
Sickle moon of gold.
So the seasons passed before me
Still I stand and write,
In the dark, on mountain edges
Sickle moons my light.