Foolish is he who does not understand
A legend tells
That a female gyspy
Invoked the moon until dawn
Crying she asked
At the break of dawn
To marry a gyspy man
"You'll have your man, dark skin,"
Spoke the full moon from the sky
"But in exchange I want
The first son
That you'll have with him
Because whoever sacrifices their son
To not be alone
Would likely not love him very much."
Moon, you want to be a mother
And you cant find a love
That can make you a woman
Tell me, silver moon
What do you intend to do
With a child of flesh?
Son of the moon.
From a cinnamon skinned father a child was born
White as the back of an ermine
With grey eyes
Instead of olive coloured
An albino boy of the moon
"Damn his appearance!
This is a non-gypsy man's child
And I won't stand for it!"
(Chorus)
The gyspy man, believing himself to be dishonoured
Went to his wife, a knife in hand
"Who's is this child?
You have fooled me well!"
And then he mortally wounded her.
Then he went to the hill
With the child in his arms
And he abandoned him there.
(Chorus)
And in the nights when there's a full moon
It will probably be beacause the child is in a good mood
And if the child cries
The moon will wane
To make him a cradle
And if the child cries
The moon will wane
To make him a cradle.