As the day vanquishes the night,
Gradually the moon fades away
Like a ghostly galleon among the sea of clouds
Then like beacon of light and a golden coin,
The sun rises and spreads its pale bright fingers
From the east to the west,
Enchanting the city with its heavenly light for the day.
And as its time to die moves closer,
It sinks below the horizon
Burning out every second,
It reminds of the phoenix
That burns down to ashes,
Then becomes the distinct moon,
Along with twinkling colleagues,
Grudgingly dreading for the rest of the night
The rise of the Goddess of Light.
Poet's note
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