I have to go to the pretty wood
and spend my grief in the shadow of worry
Filled with mourning for a penetrating memory
I must eat such bitter fruit
In a garden filled with black flowers
I shall weep and sob from my two eyes
So much for jollity and bold adventures, I am oppressed
with regret
Because I have lost my love
Alas I endure too much, time hangs heavy on me, I tell
you for sure:
Joy and solace are no more.