Silence.
Not a sound from the pavement.
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone.
In the lamplight the withered leaves collect at my feet,
And the wind begins to moan.

Every street lamp seems to beat a fatalistic warning.
Someone mutters and the street lamp gutters
And soon it will be morning.

Memory.
All alone in the moonlight.
I can smile at the old days.
I was beautiful then.
I remember the time I knew what happiness was.
Let the memory live again.