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Alas, my love, you took away your bliss from me. In the cold night you vowed to Luna to be free again, never bound again to a man, that including me.

The fair day you gave yourself to me, the day you offered yourself to a man for the first time, I was the happiest man on the world. And when our vows were sanctified, I hardly could hide my pride and joy from the commoners, who made stories about the origin of my perpetual happiness.

But then, you fell for Luna. Her blue and silver gleam bewitched your eyes and then took your heart and soul, ripping you apart from me.
I didn't note it until it was too late. All your songs and poems about the moon were just a fancy amusement, I thought, but how wrong I was.

And now you're gone, my love. Your lips, your hair, your breasts and thighs, now embraced by the pale lady. Your feet dancing under her light, floating higher and higher until the human eye is not able to follow your frantic dance.

I saw you that night and I still think, sometimes, that it was a dream, that the image of you walking on thin air, glowing as Luna itself, was a trick of my mind on a feverish night.
And the commoners say you escaped with other man, and I also want to believe that, but that's not true.

It was real.
You were taken by Luna. Now you're dancing among the stars.

And me, my love, I'm here. I'm alone and sad. Very sad. Melancholy is my companion because I know that I'll never see you again and, maybe worse, I won't have the satisfaction of revenge since you were taken by a goddess, and I'm just a human and not a hero.

Farewell, my fair love. May you have all the happiness I'll never taste again.