Ballad of the Moon

translated by Will Kirkland

The moon came into the forge

in her bustle of flowering nard.

The little boy stares at her, stares.

The boy is staring hard.

In the shaken air

the moon moves her amrs,

and shows lubricious and pure,

her breasts of hard tin.

"Moon, moon, moon, run!

If the gypsies come,

they will use your heart

to make white necklaces and rings."

"Let me dance, my little one.

When the gypsies come,

theyll find you on the anvil

with your lively eyes closed tight.

"Moon, moon, moon, run!

I can feelheir horses come."

"Let me be, my little one,

dont step on me, all starched and white!"

Closer comes the the horseman,

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