Clear is the evening sky,
Bright are the distant stars,
Bright, as the joy of a child.
Ah, me! Why is it that I cannot say,
"Stars, you're as bright as my own joy supreme?"
"Why are you joyless?"
Kind men will ask me.
Kind men, I'm joyless
Because stars and heavens
Are stars and heavens, while I'm but a man.
Men, one another
Envy with grudging,
Not so with me:
Only the beautiful stars do I envy,
Only their place would I willingly take.