that I am so sad,
a tale from ancient times,
This is not out of my mind.
The air is cool and it darkens,
And calmly flows the Rhine;
sparkles The summit of the mountain,
the evening sunshine.
The most beautiful maiden sits
perched right up there,
her golden jewels are shining,
She combs her golden hair,
She combs it with a golden comb,
And sings a song
that has a mysteriously,
pow'rful melodic rhyme.
The shipper in the little ship,
it Seizes with woe,
He sees not the cliffs,
He sees but the maid alone. '
I think the waves devour
Both boat and barge,
And She with her singing,
done The Loreley.