Shining tired on the waves The setting sun; Its beams, red and bright Gently pierce the sea Its 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