by Heinrich Heine
"Dear children," they asked in every town,
Three kings from the land of the sun,
"Which is the road to Bethlehem?"
But neither the old nor the young
Could tell, so the kings rode on:
Their guide was a golden star,
Which glittered ahead of them, high in the air,
So clear, so very clear.
The star stood still over Joseph's house,
They all of them stepped in:
The good ox lowed and the little child cried,
And the kings began to sing.