Sonnet 8 Poem by Octavian Cocos

The moon is exquisite in the warm night,
And from the sky she easily can see
I am surrounded by her silver light
And her cold ray is now enticing me.
Without a voice, she calls me all the time
To fly and reach her full of bliss profound
I smile at her, because she is sublime,
But my true love is near me, on the ground.
For long ago, a girl of noble birth,
I've heard that fell in love with Morning Star,
Because she didn't want a dear on Earth...
Her story was unhappy and bizarre.
But I prefer my sweetheart every day,
Because she's here, the moon is far away.