The moon's silver light shines down,

Chilling the land with its silent sound.

There is no clammor when the stars come out of hiding.

There is not a peep, though the shaddows have begun their binding.

Not a sound on this night.

The lives have left; the joy is gone,

The battle is spent, the war is gone, but there is none left to sing a victory song.

There is peace at last in the land, no mors tears to cry;

Since there is no one to hear the sobbs anyway.

There is not a tear on this night.

The lovers have long since left,

Their devotion lay down to rest.

They are seen no more because of this silent war.

Because a life without love is no life at all, so they will be lovers no more.

There is no love on this night.

The hope was spent long ago, over that lonely fight.

There will be no more, though try it might.

Hope was swiftly stattered by this, unvoiced battle,

Now no hope do the voices live to tattle.

There is no hope on this night.