Beneath the night's canopy, the stars stretch out their shimmering silk,
Over rooftops, trembling a dreamy blue.
The moon, our gentle beacon, walks sadly among gardens,
Guarding, perhaps, the dreams of the sleepers, in her divine silence.
Midnight strikes, the late hour, the mystery begins to weave,
I know that you, too, far away, in your night, cannot find rest.
Your...
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