The dark red clouds

Hide an even redder moon

Above the shore into which

Waves, the colour of blood,

Crash and wash away the hundred pebbles

That the blind choirmaster felt

A minute ago.

Now the choirmaster has one foot

In the blood red waves of the sea.

The shore smells of the hidden moon,

Lonely and forgotten.

Near the cave of forgotten spirits,

Away from the ancient chapel,

The choirmaster hums a requiem.

Mysterious hues gather around him,

Floating in the air, smelling of decay,

The requiem joins the hues,

A strange party on an unexpected evening.

Now the waves come rushing to him,

Calling his name,

Shouting poems written on the day

He was born. Smokes from a distant past

Engulf him from all sides.

While he waltzes towards the red clouds

And the red moon above it,

The waves crawl their way beyond the shore,

To welcome a new choirmaster,

Who awaits his mighty guests

As the moon whispers to the sky,

"The red night is over."