“The night is still, the streets are quiet.
In this house lived my Love.
She left the town long before,
Yet her house still stands in the same place.
There I also see a man standing,
Staring into the heavens,
Wringing his hands in violent grief.
I shudder as I behold his face
The moon reveals to me my own likeness.
You Doppelganger, you pale companion.
Why do you mimic my lovesickness,
That tormented me at this place,
For so many nights in the past?”

Franz Schubert’s “Der Doppelgänger” (1828)