Answer.
The night became an echo,
the moon found its heart and shone.
Each star in the darkness, standing back,
kindling once, like a match, then gone.
Fallen, as if flickering light had flown
toward the silence waiting there.
The moon is my ecstasy, the moon is my despair,
it rises from my fingers, it melts into my heart.
I am glancing back toward the dark.
Where can I go, then?
Where can I go, but there.