The New Moon

    Day, you have bruised¹ and beaten me, As rain beats down the bright, proud sea, Beaten my body, bruised my soul, Left me nothing lovely or whole —— Yet I have wrested² a gift from you, Day that dies in dusky blue：

    For suddenly over the factories I saw a moon in the cloudy seas —— A wisp of beauty all alone In a world as hard and gray as stone —— Oh who could be bitter and want to die When a maiden³ moon wakes up in the sky？