Ghazal my Dear,
I felt sorry for this nice big moon tonight,
'cause he seem to be freezing up there.
You can see from the blue shine on his cheeks how cold he must feel.
And he was shivering so much, that the picture I did of him
appeared to be not very sharp.
Take Care,
Michael
Take Care,
Michael
Michael, your obsession with the moon still goes too far: "Moon" in English language is a non-animated object, hence neutral "IT". You consistently regard the moon as a living object, calling it "HE".
ReplyDeletebest regards, Ghazal
Ghazal my Dear, I feel myself in good companion with Edgar Allen Poe, who also seemed to have been fallen in love with the moon. So he also assigned the moon a gender, even though he was more convinced it must be a SHE.
ReplyDeleteEvening Star
'Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro' the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
'Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold- too cold for me-
There pass'd, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.