Every poet’s sung your praise.
Drinkers all, a glass have raised.
With longing, parted lovers gaze.
In your light the wild wolf bays.

All photographers shoot your face.
We honoured you with a maddening race.
Monthly you vanish without a trace,
Then appear, reclaiming your place.

Holding a man, a wolf, a hare,
A god who answers every prayer,
A mother with baby, an empty chair,
A midnight fox, a prancing mare.

The tides they rise, you lengthen days,
Reflector of another’s rays.
Lunacy — on us it weighs.
A dear coquette in nightly chaise.

Covered with seas, yet you are dry.
Made of cheese, a pizza pie.
You hear every newborn cry
And each answered lullaby.

An insomniac, to you I flee.
Will you come and play with me?

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