Today I was watching the sky
and it pained me to say goodbye
to the sun that was sinking painfully.

The stars above are sparkly.
They shine so bright, they blind me.
And leave me staring in awe.

Yet I can't help but feel a bit lonely,
since you are not here, honey.
Gripping my hand in mid-air,
I can pretend that you are there
and we're watching the masquerade
of light in the sky, it's a colourful facade.

It's a colourful facade.

We still haven't met each other,
but I believe you're out there, so I'll bother
to search to the ends of the world for you.
In the morning the sky is light blue
and at sunset it's fancy,
as rays far and wide continue dancing.
But despite these changes, it's the same old welkin,
under which both you and I are standing,
the only thing between us being distance.
If you ever feel hurt, for instance,
I know I'll feel it right away,
since a crimson thread connects your heart to mine.
There is no reason to feel sad,
in fact I kind of am glad,
because every step forwards brings us closer.
Although for some this might sound grosser
than what's inside New York's sewers,
I'm not afraid to say this for us:

We might have not met yet,
but you are somewhere and I'll bet
that we will laugh at how hard it was to
move up the road as the wind blew
in our faces for so long.

It will know where it will belong,
my heart, in those first seconds our eyes meet,
it will surely skip a beat.

Ah, I think I'm losing my patience now.
Wash the sweat from your brow
and look up at the sky of summer.
It's like looking at each other,
since both you and I
are looking at the sane old merry sky.