In tears, the moon says: "I want to be an orange". No way, my child, even if you turned rosy. Not even a nice lemon. Oh, what a pity !

The afternoon says :
   "I'm thirsty for shadow!"
And the moon:
   "I want stars."
The crystal fountain asks for lips,
   the wind, for sighs.

This is a song to go to the soul of 
   things and to the soul of winds,
   resting at last in the bliss of the
   eternal heart...