Bela, Bela

Where will my moonflower be
Or who will be with her
Has she already forgotten my name
Does she dream by the window
With my portrait in hand, naked
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Where will my distant love be
Or who will be with him
In which city, country, or street
Gazing at that quiet beauty
Enchanted by her bright gaze
Hers, hers, hers, hers, hers

What does she see now
When I wake up at dawn
Who does she sleep with at night
While I sleep thinking of her
Of her, of her, of her, of her, of her