I spread my wings and fly into the night,
towards the bleeding moon, half-smiling on the sky.
Overhead the twinkling stars, far away,
urge me on, for I must reach there before the day
breaks out across the paling horizon
concealing both my chart and the destination.
Like an owl, I can never see the moon
in broad daylight. In darkness, however, I can
see her alright, clear and too alluring
and it makes me spread my feathered wings of dream,
always, without an exception ever
although I have not been able to make it, so far.
Accordingly, my wings are spread tonight as well,
O Lord, can I make it this time, out of this hell?