Tired smile of the sun saves the day; the moon, only eyes, half-veiled,
            glows teasing the sleepy earth: night is young, day is old--all yours!

            Sun's passion melts in the waves. Hills, envious, stare at the sea
            as the night's enigmatic embrace takes the lover of each lonely tree.

            My heartbeat, already an echo, chases a rhythm of pulsating flamenco,
            Never sadness so complete, burnt like ice from my heart to feet.

            And memory, all tears, shreds, erasing without trace,
            what it kept like a bridal dress, timeless as the moon's gaze.

            Untouched, like a veil's lace, and only guitar understands
            what happened this night for years.

            Under veil, with a smile, 
            eyes in tears,

            awaiting a Moorish Moon,
            praying it happens soon.

            A shadow veil removed,
            glows my Moorish Moon,

            and shows its smiling face,
            saved by this night's grace. . . .

            Svetlana Deon

            Copyright (C)2000 Svetlana Deon