I know not if there is a reason Why I am so sad at heart. A legend of bygone ages Haunts me and will not depart. The air is cool under nightfall. The calm Rhine courses its way. The peak of the mountain is sparkling With evening's final ray. The fairest of maidens is sitting So marvelous up there, Her golden j**els are shining, She's combing her golden hair. She combs with a comb also golden, And sings a song as well Whose melody binds a wondrous And overpowering spell. In his little boat, the boatman Is seized with a savage woe, He'd rather look up at the mountain Than down at the rocks below. I think that the waves will devour The boatman and boat as one; And this by her song's sheer power Fair Lorelei has done.