Hands As Their Wings

So silent, I see, oh so silent

I see the procession so black, oh so dark, so dark

silent I see the procession of sorrow,

hands as their wings, shielding are the hands

shielding the eyes are the wings

the eyes of sorrow, hans as wings

in front of the black veil.

I see the procession westbound

silently gliding westbound

the procession of widows so dark

so dark the young widows

whose hands as wings shielding their eyes

hands as wings of the widows.

Quietly I hear the song of sorrow, I hear the song so bitter

humming of the frozen widow, I fell the pain, the grief of death

I see the dark sky, the horizon burning I see

I hear the chilling call in the wind

the cold call of war,

the cold call of war,

the cold call of war.