Silently, silently in the night—
what am I doing?
Lying on my bed,
I can only see the moon
through my window pane.
You are far,
yet you still warm me.
But now the moon has slowly moved behind the clouds,
leaving me alone. Alone.
How can this be night?
No night. No night.
No evening. No evening.
I am dying
every time it comes—
thinking of visions,
the faces of you
on my bed.
Show me the moon again.
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