For the moon is about to rise.
Peace and solitude is all I ask,
Leave me till the sun begins to rise.
I must endeavour to find myself,
So the catcher said to the rye,
The mountain is sinking and the sea, rising,
A dreamer lies down to die.
The joker laughs, the skeptic coughs,
As a tear falls slowly from my eye,
The corpse is rotting, a tragedy, truly,
A child cries, "Why? Daddy, why?"
The calling bird sings its mating song
As the cat creeps upon its prey.
Leave me now, 'tis peace I seek.
I must prepare for the day.