He, I hear, leaves the house at night,
and, I see, watches the sky high above,
him, I know, someone longs to meet,
but, she says, apparently,
he, she complains, always only looks upwards,
and, she thinks, he never looks at my face.
This way, my friend, you will never find your star.

English version by Sapphire/Ramona Lofton