Everything’s broken, shattered,
Scattered completely asunder.
And I’m left as a steppe mat grass.
Only crows go round and thunder.

Only crows go round, and their wings
Chase out my reckless life.
I should run after her, but I’m beat.
I can’t catch up with her. I’m lowlife.

I’m lowlife. I can’t hand her back.
I would apologise! I'd confess!
Everything went amiss with us.
It’s a shame that we'll get no chance.