Beneath the gold face of the moon god,
Outline the silver corrugated trees,
With a dark, gothic smile, 
benevolent and loud.

Confront the verdance of mother nature!
Her verdicts are perpetually flair,
Captivate them, mother, 
call them with your greener features. 

Amidst their fated wither,
those purple swans of fumey effacement,
Of elegance and royal grace, 

Do these spirits belong hither?

And the cleansing purifying sun!
The blasé, pearly numbness of white,
And the debutante of nature, 
yellow’s floral gaiety cannot be undone.

Conventional, the ceremonial prints of black,
Henceforth, the receiving arms of a dreamy darling pink,
Hues of consanguineal red,
Dread none of these, genteel is all they lack.

Here you are!
Vast and deep!
Oh far you seep, the gracious
Bovine dance of blue.

Perform, my dear friends,
Here, this is your iridescent play,
The wonders of catlike Iris
For sometimes, rainbows stand for success.