Given the rarity of shooting stars,
perhaps it’s not best to use one
in it’s capacity for wishgranting,
to ask for your affections;
to which I’ve become nearly a slave.

Given the beauty of the lake in summertime,
perhaps it’s not best that we sit by it.
Your beauty, in all it’s splendour
would make the lake seem dead,
and rob the world of it’s worth.

Given the depth of my love for thee,
perhaps it’s best for you to stay away.
I may not be able to part from you,
and like all flowers kept indoors,
without freedom, you wouldn’t bloom.

Given that the star has not fallen,
and the lake is still beautiful,
and you are free as the sky and the surface of the lake,
I’ll be content with the idea of love,
and set my eyes in the stars above.