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.