Near the drop, above the cliffside, at the very edge so narrow,
I propel my horses forward, whipping them, the ones I cherish.
I’m not getting enough air - both the wind and fog I swallow;
There’s a dangerous elation: I may perish, I may perish!

Slow a bit, my faithful horses, take a minute’s pause!
Don’t you heed to my whip, tight and long.
But I’ve got some stubborn horses - too fastidious -
I have not lived enough, nor have I sung my song!

I will water my horse, I will sing the last verse,
For a little while longer on the edge I will pause!

I’ll be gone! And like a feather, I’ll be swept away by tempests,
Then I’m going to be sledded at a gallop in the morning.
Try to run a little slower, take the measured steps, swift pacers!
Make it just a little longer ’till we reach the final lodging!

Slow a bit, my faithful horses, take a minute’s pause!
For the whip and the lash are both wrong.
But I’ve got some stubborn horses - too fastidious -
I have not lived enough, nor have I sung my song!

I will water my horse, I will sing the last verse,
For a little while longer on the edge I will pause!

We’re on time. There’s no such thing as being late for God’s appointment.
What’s the reason that these angels sound malevolent and sickly?
Or is it the sobbing tinkling of the bell in disappointment?
Or am I directing horses not to pull the sleigh so quickly?

Slow a bit, my faithful horses, take a minute’s pause!
I beseech you, please stop before long!
But I’ve got some stubborn horses - too fastidious -
I won’t live long enough, let me finish my song!

I will water my horse, I will sing the last verse,
For a little while longer on the edge I will pause!