This is how the lucky feel
How the blessed think
Like daybreak in spring
The sun on a spring morning

Like the flat brink of a cloud
Like a dark night in autumn

But how do I feel
In my gloomy depths?

A black winter day
No, darker than that
Gloomier than an autumn night

Many rocks the rapid has
A lot of billows the sea
More plentiful are my cares
Then cones on a spruce
Beard moss on a juniper
Gnarls upon a pine bark
Knobs upon a fir
Husks on a grass-top
Boughs on a bad tree.

Drag my cares away
Carry off my griefs
For no horse can draw
No iron-shod jerk
Without the shaft-bow shaking off
The cares of this skinny one
The sorrows of this black bird