O bitter herb, Forgetfulness, I search for you in vain; You are the only growing thing Can take away my pain.
When I was young, this bitter herb Grew wild on every hill; I should have plucked a store of it, And kept it by me still.
I hunt through all the meadows Where once I wandered free, But the rare herb, Forgetfulness, It hides away from me.
O bitter herb, Forgetfulness, Where is your drowsy breath? Oh, can it be your seed has blown Far as the Vales of Death?