I shall count the stars in the sky,
This heart of mine is in pain as the days goes by.
The bright light of the moon is veiled by my iniquity,
Uprightness is lost like the treasures in the sea,
The prickling pain is sharp and constant,
Weeping and crying with shaking hands,
Joy and happiness is the dull fairy tale which was preached.
Soul friend of mine,
She sends her love,
On the wings of a dove,
I wonder what she will say,
If I tell her that I cry every day,
And I have to start all over again.