You hound are a starry night over fog,
fallen in love with the Epiphany.
The moon may be mine! Told the moony dog.
With you tender garden—is so dreamy.

Bewitchment of stars, your ability.
Your hunting is dearer observation.
A moonlit night is your eternity.
May the soft ghost be in adoration!

Roses awoken in glory—starlet.
You can taste, listen and feel them galore.
Enchant the nectar like druidic glade!
It was drunk from Ovidian amphorae.

Be, you dog, a heart-shaped meek poet!
Broken wings of loneliness are dead.