I do not know the reason why I’m inclined to sorrow
A story from the olden days is preying on my mind.
Light’s fading and the air is cool and quiet flows the Rhine,
The mountain top’s still glowing as the sun’s last rays decline.
Seated up there, gorgeous, a maid beyond compare,
Her golden jewellery glitters, she combs her golden hair.
She combs it with a golden comb and sings a song betimes,
A song with a strange melody, with strange and powerful rhymes.
The boatman in his little boat, gripped by a savage love,
Does not see the rocky reef, sees only what’s above.
I think the waves consumed them, boat and boatman, bye and bye.
And that’s what, with her singing, was done by Lorelei.