(He)
Time is over.
Why does your soul
so drip with tears, Hesper?

(She)
A carrion-crow told me
and made me smart,
I own, my soul is still as a grave,
my lips cold as clay.

Graven on my memory,
I remember the day we were true and fair,
You lulled me, and I felt an urge
so daintily to be your angel.

Wail, our sullen dirge is ready,
the Death's hand will glide on to me.
What ails you? Your moan is vain.
Their swords will tore at us.

The Four Knights are coming,
lay down your beads, throw it away,
we have no time to stare.
They'll clasp us to them, not one will they eschew.

Thorns wring my heart,
it's an heartrending grief,
our love shall drown
and you won't be mine anymore.

The Four Knights are coming,
lay down your beads, throw it away,
we have no time to stare.
They'll clasp us to them, not one will they eschew.

(He)
Woe is me.
Lean on me, Hesper, and just wait.
The sorrows of hell shall we bear.