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What reason would I have to write to the moon,  
when its light fades in the shadow without you,  
the stars twinkle in a timely dance,  
while I search the sky for an echo of you.
If you are not present, the silence becomes thick,  
like a whisper that doesn't know where to go,  
my heart clings to a naughty memory,  
under the starry mantle, waiting for the future.
The magical absence draws in the breeze,  
paths of nostalgia that show me yesterday,  
ice and sighs behind a veil of laughter,  
where your eyes shone, where I didn't know how to lose.
To the moon I write my sleeplessness,  
with the ink of tears and on sheets of paper,  
because despite the distance, your echo is my longing,  
and in every rose given, I'll look for you too.