Looking back, hard to remember the way I came; looking forward, unable to see the way I go.

When young and unaware of sorrow’s taste,
I loved to climb to lofty towers.
I loved to climb to lofty towers,
And forced out verses, feigning grief.

But now I’ve fully known the taste of sorrow,
I wish to speak, yet hold my peace.
I wish to speak, yet hold my peace,
And simply say, “How cool the autumn breeze!”