Along the cliff, over the abyss, On the very edge
I lash my horses with my whip - I urge them on!
I don’t have enough air: I drink the wind, I swallow the fog,
I feel with disastrous delight: I’m fading, I’m fading!

Slow down a little, my horses, Just a little slower,
Do not listen to the sharp lash.
But it seems I’ve ended up with capricious horses
And I haven’t had time to live, No time to finish my song.

I’ll give my horses a drink, I’ll finish singing my verse,
And for only just a moment longer, I’ll stand on the edge...