In youth I did not know the taste of sorrow,
I loved climbing high towers, loved climbing high towers,
and to compose new verses, forced myself to speak of sorrow.
But now I have fully known the taste of sorrow,
I would speak, yet stop; would speak, yet stop,
and only say, "What a fine autumn, how cool the air."
Sorry,
I haven't written it from memory in a long time,
so I may have typed some characters wrong,
please forgive me!
I loved climbing high towers, loved climbing high towers,
and to compose new verses, forced myself to speak of sorrow.
But now I have fully known the taste of sorrow,
I would speak, yet stop; would speak, yet stop,
and only say, "What a fine autumn, how cool the air."
Sorry,
I haven't written it from memory in a long time,
so I may have typed some characters wrong,
please forgive me!


