The light is fading, the beacon 
that eternally crosses the wide sky has gone out. 
O longed-for night, throw a veil 
over the guilty murderous hand. 
new crime! It must be so! 
The fatal deed must be done. 
Power means nothing to the dead; 
for them a requiem and eternity. 
Oh, desire of the throne! 
Oh, sceptre, at last you are mine! 
Every living desire 
is quieted and calmed in you. 
The man who was prophesied king 
will soon fall lifeless.