I dream of you throughout this lunar arc Where yon treetops bask in moving manna Of stardust and wind-swept imagination And of music, this still night, had left intrepid This night, which soothes nature's harsh stimuli Shall also let Sleep, your memories, mimic Even if you deign give them to someone else For we cannot but prove to your nostalgia alumni And to your prophecy non-existent else minimal I at least had admitted a long time ago To be of this function in this life you live Even if you prove to be an angel most heavenly For Music made Heaven yearn a place to go to And both of us saw perfection in you