My Korla, she is gone abed,
To rest her drowsy sleepyhead.
Now may the stars watch over her
That nothing bad disturb her.
Let gentle dreams bring fair delight
That she may deeply sleep all night,
An innocent on this good earth
Who is more gold than all gold’s worth.
All silently the hours pass;
No moving flowers, trees, or grass.
The moon now glides the window through
And kisses Korla’s lips—one…two.
I take my pen and start to write,
But I’m in awe of Korla’s light—
It was the moon’s, is now her own;
For such a sight are words unknown.