When will you know
That the light of the moon
Is as bright as the sun?
It flickers like a candle
Through the curtain of the clouds,
And even in the day, when we are blind,
It does not go out.

When will you know
That the white wedding veil
Will turn black at the funeral
And yet still be beautiful?
It hides the bride’s blush
As it hides the widow’s weeping,
And even in the night, when we are awake,
We do not forget it.

When will you know
That today’s laughter
Is yesterday’s recycled joy?
It waltzes with the sorrow
In an ever-cycling dance,
And even in the river, when we are breathless,
The joy is not far away.