I grew up with The Living End’s cover:
I wonder if it is one of those great songs where every generation has its own translation or cover?
The history of the great works of art tells us about their antecedents, their realization in the age of the artist, their potentially eternal afterlife in succeeding generations. Where this last manifests itself, it is called fame.  Translations that are more than transmissions of subject matter come into being when in the course of its survival a work has reached the age of its fame. Contrary, therefore, to the claims of bad translators, such translations do not so much serve the work as owe their existence to it. The life of the originals attains eh~ to its ever-renewed latest and most abundant flowering.