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And you beautiful child, my sweet child,
Tell me, what do you want me to sing to you?
Sing the series to me
Until I learn it today.
One is death,
Nothing further, nothing more ...
Two oxen tied to the cart,
And there are three parts of the world,
Four stones of Merlin,
Who sharpen the swords of heroes.
One is death,
Nothing else, nothing more ...
And on the path that time makes
And on the path that time makes
And there are six herbs that
In the cauldron the dwarf will stir ...
Seven are the suns, seven are the moons,
Eight are the fires lit in May,
There are nine around the fountain
The girls dancing to the moon ...
One is death,
Nothing else, nothing more ...
And ten vessels came
Bringing us the war from afar.
Eleven warriors have returned
When there were three hundred leaving ...
One is death,
Nothing else, nothing more ...
And on the path that time makes
And on the path that time makes
And there are twelve months that
Day by day, always
Scoring goes.
And still twelve are the signs
That you can read in the sky,
War between them they declared,
This one that I sing to you will be the end.
One is death,
Nothing else, nothing more ...
Then the trumpet will sound,
We will have fire and thunder, rain and wind,
The series of numbers is over,
For the one you know there is no series:
One is death,
And two oxen,
And three parts,
Four stones,
Five ages
And you are the herbs,
Seven are the only ones,
Seven moons,
There are eight fires
And nine girls,
But ten vessels,
Eleven warriors,
Twelve signs,
Twelve months
Death is the only one
Always the mother of pain.
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