Once I saw many flowers blooming on my way; however too lazy To try and pluck myself down I ran past on a good meadow.
Now that I'm dying and miserable Now that the crypt has already been dug, Often mocking in memory, tormenting, Haunts the fragrance of the spurned flowers
Especially a fiery yellow one Dandelion always burns my brain. We regret that I have the same Not once enjoyed, the great dirn.
My consolation is: Lethes have water Still now do not lose power, To refresh the stupid human heart With the sweet night of forgetting.
