(Chorus) Farewell, my sweet sorrow That gave me so much grief. I yield, as power is hollow I seek no final relief. (Stanza 1) You're modest and quite holy, Like blossoms on a height, But your own shape feels guilty, With eyes so deep and black in sight. (Chorus) Farewell, my sweet sorrow That gave me so much grief. I yield, as power is hollow I seek no final relief. (Stanza 2) You fail to see that I am he, The simple, mad flower-picker Who climbs so gradually, To clifftops ever quicker. (Chorus) Farewell, my sweet sorrow That gave me so much grief. I yield, as power is hollow I seek no final relief. (Stanza 3) But your deceptive mold Departs on time's faded way, And when the bloom I can behold, It rises higher every day. (Chorus) Farewell, my sweet sorrow That gave me so much grief. I yield, as power is hollow I seek no final relief.
