What if one night the moon fell from the sky
And like a giant ball
Rolled down your street
Lighting up the sleeping neighborhood and you,
Drawing you to the window,
So that you may catch a glimpse of her rolling away?
She would turn the corner of the street
And roll down some boulevards
And cross some squares,
Zigzagging her way between the trees,
And roll up some hills,
And go round a lake
And speed up on the highway
And by luck, by chance, by fate
Stop in my backyard.
I’d cover her up with my bedsheets
And turn her into a local attraction,
Charging a modest sum all those who wish to stare at her.
Sooner or later
You’d show up with the crowd,
But I would charge you naught.
On the contrary, I would propose,
That we forsake the crowd, the moon, and city life
And with the earnings I have made
Purchase together a cabin in some secluded Norwegian woods
Where we can admire frosty, moonless, starry nights
And do other things besides,
Depending on your mood.