Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • While the Sun visiting distant climes,

    the moon keeps her mirror high,

    directing gentle light to rooftops,

    treetops, the undulating countryside

    and the extensive sea.

    The Muse's fingers play virtuoso

    her harp strings,

    and from her lips flowing joyous hymns,

    composed by lonely, shooting stars.

    The spire of the church now sparkles like pure gold,

    and the glow of the luminous amber

    from the muses coasts,

    is woven to ethereal costumes for love dancing

    around the elves forest lakes.

    Meanwhile performing thousands fairies

    their magical rituals,

    as the moon not would be without.

Better browser, please.

To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.