The rising of the moon

Like a beautiful young woman,

Silent and solitary,

The Moon rises mysteriously

From flanks of silver cloud.

Sweet daughter of heaven, with slow and silent step

You glide through the air where shines your crown,

And your passing is surrounded

By the splendid cortege of the suns of the night.

What do you do when you are far away from us,

When the dawn fades

Your charming smile and your soft light

from our eyes, our saddened eyes?

Do you, like Ossian, plaintively keening

Bury your languishing beauty

In the refuge of pain?

Sweet daughter of heaven, do you know sorrow?

Now do you dream of its light?

Your sumptuous chariot rolls above the mountains.

If you can, slow its journey

And pour your peaceful rays over the sea.