Under the pale moon, the mist conceals, In the tranquil depths where the longing heals. Nightingale trills amidst a somber theme, Light plays softly on a gentle stream. Cloaked in dreams, the world fades away, Where heartbeats gather, long night or day, I stumble on paths wrought in silvery glow, Holding the echoes of all I could know.

• Arthur Rimbaud