The Moon! The Moon , Gunnar Ekelof The moon passes her hand softly over my eyes, Wakes me long into the night. Lonesome among the sleepers, I lay wood on the fire, fuss about with smoking sticks, Move quietly among the shadows, shadows flapping high Above the brown logs, richly Decorated with glistening fish-lures... Why did I wake? Lonesome among the sleepers, Backs turned to the fire, I open the door quietly, Walk around the corner in the snow, tramp on the clumps, see Moonlight coldly calling me over the snow... Why did I wake? Lonesome among the sleepers, Backs turned to the fire, I open the door quietly, Walk around the corner in the snow, tramp on the clumps, see Moonlight coldly calling me over the snow...