The sun is a diver
in the west, unreachable
for the moon with hair
colouring red from desire

And red colour the grapes
in the valley with the lighthouses
along the swamp river
in the country in the middle

between pole and equator
The days are short
With the neighbours
we drink last year's wine

dark as the nights
The moon kisses the sun
out of his sleep, kisses him
kisses, kisses him back

We celebrate, treat
each other at togetherness
Choirs pass from door to door
and we eat pastries