Leaves fall in your eyes when Autumn is gone -
you refuse to conform your bloom to Spring.
You are a radiant moon,
promising night the guidance you give.
I am not unaware of the burden
of the sky upon your weary shoulders,
but it is only dark when the sun retreats -
when the light abounds,
how can you grieve so silently?
How can you determine
the worth of one day
by the events of a thousand before?