They surround her [the sun], the seven planets,
but she burns toward the pallor of his [the moon's] face.
And he is so far, in the heavens of the earth's sphere,
yet he yearns for her, for her golden fire.
The moon's shadow is drawn to the sun's face.
Always, day and night, they touch above,
not enough for him or her, only for a moment,
and so each day, for countless years,
he dies in her light, and she in his.
The sunset of a pink dawn,
More than once in desperation,
they are darkened for a moment -
eclipse of the moon,
eclipse of the sun.
But in this pursuit, they light the sky,
prisoners in their orbits, unconsoled.