She wanders through the streets at night,
A prostitute perhaps or saint -
Resplendent when the moon is bright,
Mysterious when it's faint.

Resplendent and mysterious,
A woman wanders through my life -
Now gay, now strange, now serious,
She's neither maid nor mistress, nor a wife.

With her soft voice she speaks to me
Words that I feel I've always known.
Her lovely face I never see -
For when I look, I am alone, alone…