Shining tired on the waves
The setting sun;
It's beams red and bright

Gently pierce the sea.
It's chariot's descending
The clear western sky;

Night's claiming her right
To rule the world.


Her wings open wide
Under which we'll mourn and pray
Will hide our shame;

My dear Guinevere
In dismal grief we'll find
Full redemption.


A flock of crows
Approaching noisily

Stubbornly croaks
Sober words to me:
'That yearning heart of yours!

You fool! What have you done?
Bringer of death
Your soul's forever lost'.


Her wings open wide
Under which we'll mourn and pray

Will hide our shame;
My dear Guinevere
In dismal grief we'll find

Full redemption.

Night's wings open wide

Under which we'll mourn and pray
Will hide our shame;
My dear Guinevere

In dismal grief we'll find
Full redemption.