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.
