Fill my cup with emptiness, let silent notes play throughout the night,
Make my bed of moonbeams bless’d, and I shall wed the harlot night.

O maiden moon, it had been said before
Thou with the sun was wed, thou knewest night.

But I who am just now traveling by,
Have known both night and day, and day and night.

Was not the darkest hour that never shined
Bereft of moon and wine — but never night?

Bright then the hour the virgin moon deflowered
Glistens with mystic wine throughout the night.

Because when the first veil is lift there births
A nightingale song to the flippant night.

And I, who would tear the veil and much worse
To hear that sublime song, await that night.


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