Des Sängers Fluch [English translation]

Grim the times, downtrodden the land,

Spellbound to serve and submit are all man.

No bird, no laughter in the hallway resounds,

The days so grim, the nights so cold.

And so the years rolled by,

Passed – without meaning.

Heavy pages of the book of history,

Tell of the minstrel's curse until today.

„Show me to play, teach me your art“,

Thus once a man-child spoke out of deep ardor.

The elder on the harp, the man-child with chant.

They played the songs, oh so rich was their sound.

And thus the songs found their tracks through the land.

A sensation so ... unknown.

But heavy are the pages of the book of history,

and tell of the minstrel's curse until today.

And thus it was to play in front the frigid throne.

Death shall be the penalty, life the reward.

„So play now, you both and play mere well,

Else I will please myself and wade through blood“.

So he stroke the strings as tight as never,

Then the voices raised into a magnificent song,

It sounded and roared, the chant of the two,

And casted a spell over all souls in the hall.

Thus they dared to play in front of the frigid throne

Death would be the penalty, life the reward.

But heavy are the pages of the book of history

And hardly they bear the minstrel's curse.

Furiously the jealous steel comes down,

Strikes, in front of the throne, the young one with bitter ordeal.

The elder carries the body to the door , away out.

But stands still before the last gate and proclames:

„Woe betide you, slayer, you curse of the bards!

Fall down to the floor, drown in your blood!

Forgotten be your name, your body be burned to dust,

Demolished your halls, your realm overrun!“

The elder has proclaimed it, everybody has heard it,

The walls went down, the halls are destroyed.

The erstwhile name of the throne, it is known by no book until now,

Only one thing fills heavy pages: it is the minstrel's curse!