The moon too pale places a diadem on your red hair
The moon too red, splashes glory on your petticoat full of holes
The moon too pale caresses the opal of your jaded eyes
Princess of the street, welcome to my broken heart

The stairways up to the hill can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the mill shelter you and I

My little beggar girl, I feel your little hand looking for mine
I feel your chest and your slim waist, I forget my sorrow
I feel on your lips a feverish smell of poorly fed child
And under your caress, I feel a drunkenness that annihilates me

The stairways up to the hill can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the mill shelter you and I

And there she trots, the moon that floats, the princess too
La la-la la la, la la-la la la, my dreams come true
The stairs of the hill are hard for the wretched
The wings of the mill protect the lovers

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