To the Tune "Yellow Oriole"
Willows weave spring sorrow,
brow knit in sorrow, I lean from painted tower.
Red sorrow, green sadness—on each branch wither flowers;
the old sorrow not yet gone,
new sorrow comes as well.
How many sunsets have I passsed in sorrow?
The hook of sorrow hangs above:
let me ask the moon about this sorrow.
In sorrow I watch the southern clouds withdraw.
brow knit in sorrow, I lean from painted tower.
Red sorrow, green sadness—on each branch wither flowers;
the old sorrow not yet gone,
new sorrow comes as well.
How many sunsets have I passsed in sorrow?
The hook of sorrow hangs above:
let me ask the moon about this sorrow.
In sorrow I watch the southern clouds withdraw.
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