Tell me, O Luna, tell me a story at this pond under this dome.
Play for me on the lyre and tell me what happened and what will happen, so that I may see.
News and tales and days that passed over peoples and nations, you tell me wonders about those who went.
With words that carve into the hearts like engraving in stone.
So teach me that I listen to every word and follow what you chant at my ear, O bearer of the moon.
"She plays with the white skirt and the blue eyes on the string and strikes with the hand on the water, and the spray scatters as if sparks."
"She raises the hand and sees who has looked at her and smiles a smile visible to all with sight."
"She speaks, and her words are as if the nightingales sing under the trees, speaking the truth as if she saw destiny."
The maiden says at the pond, and her speech is as if an arrow pierced the stone, so the piercing became in my mind the trace:
"Eight will inherit the earth, ruling with fire until the sky dominates and the rain ceases."
"Blood reaches the knees, and horses trample on the corpses—this is what wars brought upon mankind."
"Crowns fell and collapsed under the strike of fate—do they have any power?"
"Only a man inherits the trace from his father, so he went and followed until he reached the settlement."
"He burned the people until the earth said: Enough, by the Lord of mankind."
"The oath was fulfilled and killing was done well; nothing of the people remained."
"The earth swallowed their ashes, and the waters of the rain took it."
"So let live the prince of the nations, bringer of fire upon the people of treachery."
Luna plays a little melody full of sorrow for those who went, then looks at you and says in grief:
"Lo, you have heard the news! Is it enough for you, or shall I increase you, O son of the sea, O possessor of pearls?"