A legend tells that a female gypsy conjured the moon until sunrise. Crying she begged that when day arrives she could spouse a male.
“You’ll have your man, dark skinned.” From the clouds replied the full moon. “But in exchange I want, the first born child that you birth to him. Because who mothers a child in order to end solitude, little would there be love.
[chorus: Moon wants to be a mother, but you can’t find the desire to be bound in human form. Tell me moon of silver, what do you pretend to do with a child of skin? Naa na, naaa na. Child of the moon.]
From a cinnamon father a baby was was born. White like the pale back of an armino and with gray eyes instead of olive black. Albino child belonging to the moon. “Curse his stamp, this boy is from a white man and I won’t be silenced.”
Man when feeling dishonored, encountered his wife with a knife by hand. “Who does the child belong to? You’ve cheated surely.” And he injured her of death. He then run to the hills, child in arms, and there he abandoned him.
And the nights that fall upon a full moon, will be because the child is in a good mood. And if the boy cries, the moon will crescent to form him a crib. And if the boy cries, the moon will crescent to form him a crib.