I walk through the silent night,
The little stars all around are already awake.
My heart is, ah! so full of happiness;
Tell me, moon, whatever will come of that?

I hear the words forevermore,
So solemn and yet so faithful and true,
So heartfelt and so loving;
Tell me, moon, whatever will come of that?

And when I hear the sound of a certain name,
My heart becomes woeful and anxious
And nevertheless, ah! so full of yearning!
Tell me, moon, whatever will come of that?

It must be the fault of springtime
That love entered into my heart.
Now it throbs therein so blissfully;
Tell me, moon, whatever will come of that?

But ah! the moon only smiles,
Gently casts its light round about the lea.
I walk home thoughtfully
And ask myself, whatever will come of that?