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  • 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.
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