Little, fluttering thing of mystery,
Why doth you fly the Goddess Nyx’s flight?
Amongst Selene and her starry, black sea,
A sunless world, the realm known as the Night?
Thou bear the Reaper’s head between thine own wings!
Yet you bear no venom, no claw, nor a bite,
No clasping jaws, nor a sharp lance that stings,
Just a death’s-head moth, making its ghostly flight.
Go forth, small, spectral, otherworldly one!
Helios’ chariot is in the sky!
The divine stallions pull the gold sun!
Thy dark world’s glimmering end is nigh!
Go, harmless soul, back to whence thou hath came,
Night’s blackness dissipates with the light,
The morning dawns overhead, in King Zeus’ name,
Sleep in shadows, until next-day’s night.
[I guess you could call this an exaggeration of me observing a death's-head hawkmoth in the early morning. ^^;]
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