On a steep cliff, alongside a gorge, just on the edge of tripping,
With a knout upon my horses’ backs, I’m hastening and whipping...
I somehow feel sort of choking - wind and mist I’m gulping, sipping,
Sensing virulent enjoyment - it is over, I am slipping!

Just a little slower, horses, a bit easier be!
Don’t you follow the whip’s woven sting!
Except my horses are so stubborn, they won’t listen to me -
I’ve no time left to live, and no time left to sing.

I will feed them from hand, I will sing to the end -
For one short instant more, on the edge I will stand...

I’ll be gone - swept like a feather from the hurricane’s small finger,
In a sleigh, one early morning, on the snow they'll move me lightly,
Do not run so fleetly, horses, change to steady walk and linger,
Make the way to final shelter a bit longer, if but slightly!

Just a little slower, horses, a bit easier be!
You don’t have to obey the whipping sting.
Except my horses are so stubborn, they won’t listen to me -
No more time left to live, and no time left to sing.

I will feed them from hand, I will sing to the end -
For one short instant more, on the edge I will stand...

We’re on time - when God invites us, there’s no way to show belated -
So why are angels singing there with those bad voices full of hatred?!
Or is it the frantic sobbing of the sleigh bell agitated,
Or my yelling at the horse for being way too animated?!

Just a little slower, horses, a bit easier be!
Please don’t gallop as if you’re on wing!
Except my horses are so stubborn, they won’t listen to me...
I’d no time left to live, so at least let me sing!

I will feed them from hand, I will sing to the end -
For one short instant more, on the edge I will stand...