Original subtitles

Ho there! You guardians of the woods, or rather guardians of sleep,

at least wake at morn!

Do you hear the call?

Give thanks to God that you are called to hear it!

Now up, my children!

See to the bath.

lt is time to await the king there.

l see the heralds already approaching in advance of the litter bearing him.

Greetings to you!

How fares Amfortas today?

Right early does he seek the bath.

l assume the healing herb that Gawain won for him by craft and daring

has brought him some relief?

You assume this, you who know all?

His pain soon returned even more searingly.

Sleepless from his grievous infirmity he eagerly bade us prepare the bath.

We are fools to hope for relief

when only recovery can relieve him!

Search and hunt far and wide through the world for every sample, every potion.

There is but one thing that can help him, only one man!

Tell us who he is!

See to the bath!

See there, the wild rider!

Hey! How the mane of her devil's mare is flying!

Ha! ls Kundry there?

She must be bringing momentous news!

- The mare is staggering. - Has she flown through the air?

- She is crawling over the ground. - And her mane is sweeping the moss.

The wild woman has flung herself off.

Here! Take this! Balsam.

Whence have you brought this?

From farther away than you can imagine.

Should the balsam not help,

then Arabia hides nothing more to heal him.

Ask no further.

l am weary.

He is coming; they are bringing him along.

Alas! How it grieves my heart

to see the liege lord of a conquering race

in the pride and flower of his manhood

fall a slave to his sickness!

Carefully! Hear, the king groans.

That will do!

l thank you.

A brief rest.

After a night of wild distress,

now the woodland splendour of morning!

ln the holy lake may the waters refresh me,

ease my anguish

and brighten my night of pain.

Gawain!

My lord, Gawain did not stay;

for when the power of his healing herb, won as it was with such difficulty,

yet disappointed your hope,

he set forth at once upon a new search.

Without permission!

He will have to atone for flaunting the Grail's command!

Ah, woe to him, that defiant bold spirit,

should he fall into Klingsor's snares!

Let none thus disturb my peace!

l await the one appointed to me:

''Enlightened through compassion...''

Was that not it?

So you told us.

''...the innocent fool.''

lt seems to me that l know him.

Would that l might name him as Death!

But first try once more with this!

Whence came this strange vessel?

lt was brought you from Arabia.

And who obtained it?

There she lies, the wild woman. Up, Kundry! Come!

You, Kundry?

Have l to thank you again, you restless, timorous maid?

Well then! l will try your balsam now.

Let this be thanks for your devotion.

Not thanks! Ha ha! How will that help?

Not thanks! Away to the bath!

Hey, you there! Why do you lie there like a wild beast?

Are not beasts holy here?

Yes, but whether you are holy we don't yet know.

With her magic balm, l fancy, she'll wholly undo our master.

Hm! Did she ever harm you?

When you all stood perplexed,

not knowing how, and scarcely even where to send tidings

to our brothers fighting in far-off lands,

who, before you can even ponder, rushes and flies there and back,

bearing the message faithfully and successfully?

You do not support her, she never approaches you,

she has nothing in common with you.

Yet when help is wanted in danger

her zeal speeds her through the air

and she never looks to you for thanks.

l say if this be harm

it works out well for you.

But she hates us.

Just see how balefully she glares at us!

She's a heathen, a sorceress.

Yes, she may be under a curse.

She lives here now,

perhaps reincarnated,

to expiate some sin from an earlier life

not yet forgiven there.

Now she makes atonement by such deeds

as benefit our knightly order.

She has done good, beyond all doubt,

serving us and thereby helping herself.

Then perhaps it was this guilt of hers which brought upon us such dire distress?

Yes, when she remained for long away from us

misfortune indeed befell us.

l have known her a long time

but Titurel has known her longer yet.

While he was building the castle there

he found her asleep in the undergrowth in the wood,

numb, lifeless, as if dead.

So l myself again lately found her

shortly after we had suffered that misfortune

which that evildoer beyond the mountains brought upon us in such shame.

Ho, you! Listen and say: Whereabouts were you roaming

when our master lost the spear?

Why did you not help us then?

l never help.

She says so herself.

lf she is so true, so bold in daring,

then send her after the missing spear!

That is quite different:

it is forbidden to all.

O wondrous-wounding hallowed spear!

l saw thee wielded by unhallowed hand!

All too daring Amfortas, thus armed,

who could have prevented you from vanquishing the sorcerer?

Hard by the keep

our hero was drawn away:

a woman of fearsome beauty bewitched him.

ln her arms he lay intoxicated,

letting fall the spear.

A deathly cry! l rushed in:

Klingsor, laughing, was vanishing from there,

having stolen the holy spear.

Fighting, l guarded the king's flight

but a wound burned him in the side.

This wound it is which never will heal.

Then you knew Klingsor?

How fares the king?

The bath has refreshed him.

The balsam eased the pain.

This wound it is which never will heal!

But father, speak and tell us plainly:

you knew Klingsor, how could that be?

Titurel, the godly hero, knew him well.

For to him, when savage foes' craft and might

threatened the realm of the true faith,

the Saviour's angel messengers

once came down in holy solemn night:

the sacred vessel, the precious holy cup

from which he drank at the last love-feast,

in which, too, his divine blood flowed from the Cross

and with it that same spear which shed it.

The supremely wondrous wealth of these treasured witnesses,

they gave into our king's charge.

For these holy relics he built this sanctuary.

You who were called to its service by paths denied to sinners,

you know that it is given only to the pure

to become one of the brothers to whom the Grail's mighty power

grants the strength to work divine salvation.

Therefore it was forbidden to Klingsor, of whom you ask,

though he expended much effort on it.

Yonder in the valley he lived secluded;

beyond lies a rich heathen land.

l never knew of what sin he was guilty there

but he then wished to atone and indeed become sanctified.

Powerless to stifle the sin within him,

on himself he laid dastardly hands,

which he then turned towards the Grail,

from which its guardian drove him out in scorn.

At which, wrath taught Klingsor

how his deed of shameful sacrifice could give him knowledge of evil magic.

This he now found.

He transformed the desert into a magic garden

in which bloomed women of infernal beauty.

There he awaits the knights of the Grail

to lure them to sinful joys and hell's damnation.

He gains control of those he entices;

full many of us has he ruined.

When Titurel, much burdened with age,

had conferred sovereignty on his son,

Amfortas could not wait

to subdue this plague of sorcery.

You know what happened there:

the spear is now in Klingsor's hands.

lf he can wound even a holy man with it

he fancies the Grail already firmly his!

Before all else now, the spear must be ours again!

Ha! He who brought it back would win fame and joy!

Before the looted sanctuary Amfortas lay in fervent prayer,

anxiously imploring some sign of salvation.

A blessed radiance emanated from the Grail;

a holy vision clearly spoke to him

this message in words of fire:

''Enlightened through compassion, the innocent fool;''

''wait for him, the appointed one.''

''Enlightened through compassion, the innocent fool.''

- Alas! Alas! - Hoho!

- Up! - Who is the miscreant?

- What is it? - There! - Here!

- A swan! - A wild swan! - lt's wounded!

Alas! Alas!

Who shot the swan?

The king hailed it as a happy omen

when the swan circled over the lake;

then an arrow flew...

lt was he! He shot it! Here's his bow!

Here's the arrow, like his.

Are you the one who killed this swan?

lndeed! Whatever flies l can hit in flight!

You did this?

And you're not worried by the deed?

Punish the offender!

Unprecedented act!

You could murder, here in the holy forest,

where tranquil peace surrounded you?

Did not the woodland beasts tamely come near

and innocently greet you as friends?

What did the birds sing to you from the branches?

What harm did that faithful swan do you?

Seeking his mate, he flew up

to circle with it over the lake

and gloriously to hallow the bath.

This did not impress you?

lt but tempted you to a wild, childish shot from your bow?

He was pleasing to us:

what is he now to you?

Here, look!

Here you struck him,

the blood still congealing,

the wings drooping lifeless,

the snowy plumage stained dark,

the eyes glazed.

Do you see his look?

Now do you appreciate your misdeed?

Say, boy, do you realize your great guilt?

How could you commit this crime?

l didn't know.

Where are you from?

l don't know.

Who is your father?

l don't know.

Who sent you this way?

l don't know.

Your name, then?

l had many,

but l know none of them any more.

You know nothing of anything?

Such a dullard l never found before, save Kundry!

Now go! Do not neglect the king in the bath!

Help here!

Now say! You know nothing l ask you:

tell me what you do know, for you must surely know something.

l have a mother

whose name is Heart's Sorrow.

The woods and wild moors were our home.

Who gave you the bow?

l made it myself to scare the savage eagles from the forest.

But you yourself seem eagle-like and nobly born.

Why did your mother not let you learn to use better weapons?

His mother bore him fatherless,

for Gamuret was slain in battle!

To preserve her son from a similar untimely hero's death

she reared him up in the desert to folly, a stranger to arms, the fool!

Yes!

And once, along the forest's edge,

came a glittering array of men mounted on fine creatures.

l wanted to be like them; they laughed and galloped off.

l ran after them but could not overtake them;

through deserts l wandered, up hill and down dale;

often night fell, and again came day.

My bow had to defend me against wild beasts or giants.

Yes! Robbers and giants engaged his strength:

they learned to fear the fierce boy.

Who fears me? Say!

The wicked!

They who threatened me, were they wicked?

Who is good?

Your mother, whom you deserted

and who now frets and grieves for you.

She grieves no more: his mother is dead.

Dead? My mother? Who says so?

As l rode by, l saw her dying:

she bade me greet you, fool.

lnsane youth! Again violent?

What has the woman done to you?

She spoke the truth;

for Kundry never lies,

though she has seen much.

l am fainting!

Well done,

according to the Grail's mercy:

they vanquish evil who requite it with good.

l never do good;

l long only for rest,

only rest in my weariness.

To sleep!

Oh, that no one would wake me!

No! Not sleep!

Horror seizes me!

ln vain to resist!

The time has come.

Sleep,

sleep

l must.

The king is returning from the bath;

the sun stands high.

Now let me lead you to our hallowed feast;

for if you are pure

the Grail will be meat and drink to you.

Who is the Grail?

That cannot be said;

but if you yourself are called to its service

that knowledge will not remain withheld.

And see!

l think l know you aright;

no earthly path leads to it

and none could tread it

whom the Grail itself had not guided.

l scarcely tread yet seem already to have come far.

You see, my son, time here becomes space.

Now observe well, and let me observe,

if you are a fool and innocent,

what knowledge may be divulged to you.

At this latest love-feast, prepared day after day,

as on the last occasion may it refresh us today.

The meal will renew

him who delights in doing good.

May he derive comfort

and receive the supreme gift.

As once his blood flowed

with countless pains for the sinful world

now with joyful heart let my blood be shed for the great Redeemer.

His body, that he gave to purge our sin,

lives in us through his death.

The faith endures, the dove,

the Saviour's loving messenger, hovers.

Drink the wine poured out for you

and take the bread of life!

Amfortas, my son, are you in your place?

Shall l again today look on the Grail and live?

Must l die without my Saviour's guidance?

Alas! Woe is me for my pain!

My father, oh, once more serve the office!

Live, live, and let me die!

Within the grave l still live by the Saviour's grace

but l am too feeble to serve him.

ln his service you may expiate your sin!

Uncover the Grail!

No!

Leave it covered!

Oh! May no man, no man undergo this torture

wakened in me by the sight which transports you!

What is the wound, its raging pain,

against the distress, hell's torments, in this office, to be accursed!

Woeful inheritance to which l am called,

that l, the only sinner of all my people,

must tend what is supremely sacred,

invoking its blessing on the righteous!

O punishment, unparalleled punishment

of, ah! the wronged Lord of mercy!

For him, for his holy greeting,

must l ardently yearn;

by the repentance of my inmost soul

must l reach him.

The hour draws near:

a ray of light descends upon the holy vessel.

The covering falls.

The divine contents of the sacred chalice

glow with radiant glory.

Thrilled by the agony of ecstasy

l feel the fount of divine blood pour into my heart.

The ebb of my own sinful blood

in mad tumult must surge back into me,

to gush in wild terror into the world of sinful passion.

lt breaks open the door anew and now rushes out here,

through the wound, like his,

struck by a blow from that same spear

which pierced the Saviour,

from whose wound the Holy One wept tears of blood for man's disgrace

in the heavenly yearning of pity.

And now from my wound, in holiest office,

the custodian of the most divine treasure and guardian of its redeeming balm

spills forth the fevered blood of sin,

ever renewed from the fount of longing

that, ah! no repentance of mine can ever still!

Mercy!

Mercy!

All-merciful one, have mercy on me!

Take back my inheritance, heal my wound,

that l may die holy,

pure and whole for thee!

''Enlightened through compassion, the innocent fool;''

''wait for him, the appointed one!''

Thus ran the promise made to you.

Wait confidently;

serve the office today!

Uncover the Grail!

''Take this my body,''

''take my blood,''

''in token of our love!''

''Take this my blood,''

''take my body,''

''in remembrance of me!''

O heavenly rapture!

How brightly Our Lord greets us today!

Wine and bread from the Last Supper

the Lord of the Grail once turned,

through the power of pity and love,

into the blood which he shed,

into the body which he broke.

Blood and body of that holy gift,

the loving spirit of blessed consolation,

now turn for your refreshment

into the wine poured out for you,

into the bread that feeds you today.

Take of the bread, turn it confidently

into bodily strength and power;

true until death, steadfast in effort,

to work the Saviour's will!

Take of the wine, turn it anew

into the fiery blood of life.

Rejoicing in the unity of brotherly faith

let us fight with holy courage!

Blessed in faith and love!

Why are you still standing there?

Do you know what you have seen?

So you are only a fool then!

Off with you and go on your way!

But heed Gurnemanz:

in future leave the swans here in peace;

a gander should look for a goose!

''Enlightened through compassion, the innocent fool.''

Blessed in faith!

The time has come.

My magic castle lures the fool,

whom l see approaching from afar, shouting boyishly.

ln deathly sleep the woman is held fast by the curse

whose grip l have the power to loosen.

Up then! To work!

Come up! Come up! To me!

Your master calls you,

nameless one, primeval witch, rose of hell!

You were Herodias, and what else?

Gundryggia there, Kundry here!

Come here!

Come hither, Kundry!

Your master calls!

Obey!

Are you waking? Ha!

To my power you fall again today, at the right time.

Say, where have you been roaming again?

Fie! There among the knights where you let yourself be treated like a beast!

Do you not fare better with me?

When you captured their master for me, ha! that chaste guardian of the Grail,

what drove you forth again?

Oh! Oh!

Blackest night!

Frenzy!

O rage!

O misery!

Sleep, sleep!

Deep sleep! Death!

Did another awaken you? Eh?

Yes! My curse!

O yearning, yearning!

Ha ha! There, for the saintly knights?

There, there l served.

Yes, to make good the wrong that you had maliciously done them?

They will not help you.

lf l bid the right price they are all venal.

The steadiest will fall when he sinks in your arms

and so be brought low by the spear which l myself seized from their master.

Now today we have the most dangerous to meet;

he is shielded by his foolishness.

l will not!

Oh! Oh!

You will, because you must.

You cannot force me.

- But l can hold you. - You?

- Your master. - By what power?

Ha! Since only with me does your power avail you nothing.

Ha ha! Are you chaste?

Why do you ask this, accursed witch?

Dire distress!

So now the fiend mocks me

that once l strove after holiness?

Dire distress!

The pain of untamed desire, most horrible, hell-inspired impulse

which l had throttled to deathly silence,

does it now laugh aloud and mock through you, bride of the devil?

Beware! One man already repents his contempt and scorn,

that proud man, strong in holiness, who once drove me out.

His race l ruined;

unredeemed shall the guardian of the holy treasure languish;

and soon, l know it, l myself will guard the Grail.

Ha ha! How did you like the hero Amfortas,

whom l ensnared to your charms?

O anguish! Anguish!

He too was weak!

Weak are they all!

All fall victim to my curse!

O endless sleep, only release,

how can l win you?

Ha! He who spurns you

sets you free:

attempt it with the boy who is drawing near!

l will not!

He is already mounting the tower.

Alas! Alas!

Did l wake for this?

Must l? Must l?

Ha! The boy is handsome!

Oh! Oh! Woe is me!

Ho, guards!

Ho, knights! Heroes! Up!

Foes are at hand!

Ha! How they rush to the ramparts, my deluded garrison,

to defend their beautiful witches!

Yes! Courage!

Courage! Ha ha!

He is not afraid;

he has disarmed brave Sir Ferris,

whose weapon he sturdily wields against the throng.

How ill does his ardour accord with the dullards!

He has struck one in the arm, another in the thigh!

Ha ha! They weaken; they flee.

Each takes home a wound!

Not one of them do l grudge!

May the whole brood of knights thus wreak havoc on each other!

Ha! How proudly he now stands on the rampart!

How happily flushed are his cheeks

as in childish amazement he gazes at the deserted garden!

Ho, Kundry!

What? Already at work?

Ha ha! l well know the spell

that for ever binds you to serve me again!

You there, innocent lad,

whatever prophecies were made you,

too young and dull, you fall into my power.

Once deprived of purity

you will remain my slave!

- Here! - Here was the uproar!

- Here! - Weapons! - Angry clamour!

- Who is the miscreant? - Woe is us!

- Where is the miscreant? - Vengeance!

- My beloved wounded? - Where can l find mine?

- l awoke alone! - Where have they fled?

- Where is my beloved? - Where can l find mine?

- l awoke alone! - Where are our lovers?

- lnside the palace! - Where are our lovers?

- We saw them with bleeding wounds. - Up, to their aid!

Who is our foe?

There he stands! See him there!

- Where? - There! - Ah, l see him.

My Ferris's sword is in his hand!

l see my beloved's blood on it.

- My knight ran hither. - They all came hither.

Woe! Woe to him who smote them!

- He wounded my lover. - He struck my friend.

- Still bloody is his weapon! - My lover's foe!

- Alas! Alas! - You there!

Why create such distress?

May you be accursed!

Ah, audacious one!

You dare to approach!

Why did you smite our lovers?

Lovely children, how could l not smite them?

They barred my way to you, my fair ones.

Were you seeking us?

Had you seen us already?

Never yet have l seen so fair a company:

do you not think me right in calling you fair?

- Then you do not mean to harm us? - l could not do so.

Yet you have caused us many woes!

You smote our playmates!

Who now will play with us?

l will, gladly!

Are you kind? Then do not stay afar!

And if you do not chide us

we will repay you.

We do not play for gold:

we play for love's dues.

lf you bring us consolation

you shall win it from us!

- Leave the boy! - He belongs to me!

- No! - No! - No! To me!

Ah, the minxes! They secretly adorned themselves.

Come, come, handsome boy!

- Come, handsome boy! - Come, l'll be your flower!

Gentle boy, all my loving care is for your delight and bliss!

Come, handsome boy!

Let me be your flower!

All our loving care is for your delight and bliss!

How sweet you smell!

Are you flowers then?

The garden's pride and perfumed essence.

Our master plucked us in springtime!

We grow here in summer and sunlight

to bloom for your delight.

Now be friendly and kind!

Do not grudge the flowers their due!

lf you cannot love and cherish us

we shall wither and perish.

- Take me to your bosom! - Come, gentle boy!

- Let me cool your brow! - Let me be your flower!

Let me touch your cheek!

Let me kiss your lips!

No! l! l am the fairest!

- No! l am the fairest! - l am fairer!

- No! l smell sweeter! - No, l do! - l do!

You wild throng of lovely flowers,

if l am to play with you give me some room!

- Why do you scold us? - Because you are quarrelling.

- We are only quarrelling over you. - Have done, then!

Let him be. See, he favours me!

- Rather me! - No, me! - No, he favours me more!

- You hold me aloof? - You drive me away?

- What, are you afraid of women? - Don't you dare?

How meanly timid and cold you are!

Would you have the flowers woo the butterfly?

How faint-hearted he is! How cold he is!

- Away! Leave him to his folly! - We give him up for lost.

- Then let him be our choice! - No, ours! - No, ours!

- No, he belongs to me! - No, he belongs to us!

- Yes, to us! And me! - And me! Yes, me!

Have done! You shall not catch me!

Parsifal!

Stay!

Parsifal!

Once in a dream my mother called me that.

Stay here! Parsifal!

Bliss and surpassing delight await you.

You wantoning children, let him be;

flowers soon to wither,

with you he is not destined to play.

Go home, tend the wounded;

many a lonely hero awaits you.

- Must we leave you? - Must we not see you?

- Alas! - Oh, what sorrow!

We would gladly be parted from all men to be with you alone.

Farewell, you charming, fair boy,

you fool!

Have l just dreamt all this?

Did you call me, who am nameless?

l named you, foolish innocent,

''Fal parsi'',

you innocent fool,

''Parsifal''.

Thus, when he fell in Araby,

your father Gamuret called his son,

to whom, still in his mother's womb,

he gave his dying greeting with this name.

l waited for you here to tell you this.

What drew you here, if not the wish to know?

l never saw, nor dreamt of,

what now l see and which fills me with dread.

Do you too bloom in this bank of flowers?

No, Parsifal, you foolish innocent!

Far, far away, is my home.

l tarried here only that you might find me.

l came from afar, where l have seen much.

l saw the child on its mother's breast,

its first lisping still laughs in my ear;

though sad at heart, how Heart's Sorrow also laughed,

that in her grief the apple of her eye should cry for joy!

She fondly lulled to sleep with caresses

the babe cradled gently on soft moss.

With anxious care a mother's yearning guarded its sleep

and the hot dew of a mother's tears woke it at morn.

She was all mourning, child of sorrow,

for your father's love and death.

To shield you from like peril

she deemed it her highest duty's task.

She strove to hide and shelter you safe

afar from weapons and from men's strife and fury.

She was all concern and foreboding

lest you should ever acquire knowledge.

Do you not still hear her cry of distress

when you roamed late and far?

Oh! How great was her joy and laughter

when she sought and found you again!

When her arms clasped you tight

did you perhaps fear her kisses?

But you did not consider her woe, her desperate grief,

when you finally did not return and left no trace behind!

She waited night and day

till her laments grew faint,

grief consumed her pain

and she craved for death's release:

her sorrow broke her heart

and Heart's Sorrow died.

Woe is me! Alas!

What have l done? Where was l?

Mother! Sweet, dear mother!

Your son, your son it was who killed you!

Fool! Blind, blundering fool,

where did you wander, forgetting her,

forgetting yourself too?

O dearest, beloved mother!

lf grief were still a stranger to you

the sweetness of consolation would never comfort your heart.

Now assuage that distress,

that woe for which you grieve, in the solace which love offers you.

O mother,

my mother,

how could l forget her!

Ah, what else have l forgotten?

What have l ever remembered yet?

Only dull stupidity dwells in me.

Confession will end guilt in remorse,

understanding changes folly into sense.

Learn to know the love that enfolded Gamuret

when Heart's Sorrow's passion engulfed him in its fire!

She who once gave you life and being

to subdue death and folly

sends you this day, as a last token of a mother's blessing,

the first kiss of love.

Amfortas!

The wound!

The wound!

lt burns within my heart!

O sorrow, sorrow! Fearful sorrow!

From the depths of my heart it cries aloud.

Oh! Oh! Most wretched! Most pitiable!

l saw the wound bleeding:

now it bleeds in me!

Here, here!

No, no! lt is not the wound.

Flow in streams, my blood, from it!

Here! Here in my heart is the flame!

The longing, the terrible longing which seizes and grips all my senses!

O torment of love!

How everything trembles, quakes and quivers in sinful desire!

My dull gaze is fixed on the sacred vessel;

the holy blood flows;

the bliss of redemption, divinely mild, trembles within every soul around.

Only here, in my heart, will the pangs not be stilled.

The Saviour's lament l hear there,

the lament, ah! the lamentation from his profaned sanctuary:

''Redeem me,''

''rescue me''

''from hands defiled by sin!''

Thus rang the divine lament in terrible clarity in my soul.

And l, fool, coward,

fled hither to wild, childish deeds!

Redeemer!

Saviour! Lord of grace!

How can l, a sinner, purge my guilt?

Honoured hero! Throw off this spell!

Look up and greet your fair one's coming!

Yes! This was the voice

with which she called him;

and this her look, truly l recognize it,

and this, smiling at him so disquietingly;

the lips, yes, thus they quivered for him;

thus she bent her neck,

thus boldly rose her head;

thus laughingly fluttered her hair,

thus her arms were twined around his neck,

thus tenderly fawned her features!

ln league with the pangs of every torment

her lips kissed away his soul's salvation!

Ah, this kiss!

Corrupter! Get away from me!

For ever away from me!

Cruel one!

lf you feel in your heart only others' sorrows

then feel mine too!

lf you are a redeemer what maliciously stops you

from uniting with me for my salvation?

Through eternities l have waited for you,

the saviour so late in coming,

whom once l dared revile.

Oh! lf you knew the curse

which afflicts me, asleep and awake,

in death and life, pain and laughter,

newly steeled to new affliction,

endlessly through this existence!

l saw him,

him,

and mocked!

His gaze

fell upon me!

Now l seek him from world to world to meet him once again.

ln darkest hour l feel his eyes turn on me

and his gaze rest upon me.

The accursed laughter assails me once again:

a sinner sinks into my arms!

Then l laugh, laugh, l cannot weep,

can only shout, rage, storm, rave

in an ever-renewed nightmare

from which, though repentant, l scarcely wake.

One for whom l yearned in deathly longing,

whom l recognized though despised and rejected,

let me weep upon his breast,

for one hour only be united to you

and, though God and the world disown me,

in you be cleansed of sin and redeemed!

For evermore would you be damned with me

if for one hour, unmindful of my mission, l yielded to your embrace!

For your salvation too l am sent

if you will turn aside from your desires.

The solace to end your sorrows

comes not from the source from which they flow.

Grace shall never be bestowed on you

until that source is sealed to you.

Another grace, ah, a different one, for which, pitying, l saw the brotherhood

pining in dire distress, scourging and mortifying their flesh.

But who can know aright and clear

the only true source of salvation?

O misery that banishes all deliverance!

O blackness of earthly error,

that while feverishly pursuing supreme salvation

yet thirsts for the fount of perdition!

Was it my kiss which thus revealed the world to you?

The full embrace of my love then

would raise you to godhead.

Redeem the world, if this is your destiny.

Make yourself a god for an hour

and for that let me be damned for ever,

my wound never be healed!

l offer redemption to you too in your sin.

Let me love you, godlike as you are,

and you would then give me redemption.

Love and redemption shall be yours

if you will show me the way to Amfortas.

Never shall you find him!

Let the fallen one perish,

that woeful seeker after shame

whom l derided, at whom l laughed! Ha ha!

He fell by his own spear!

Who dared to wound him with the holy weapon?

He, he

who once punished my laughter:

his curse,

ha! gives me strength.

l will call the spear against you yourself

if you accord that sinner mercy!

This is madness! Pity!

Pity on me!

Be mine for one hour!

Let me be yours for one hour

and you shall be led on your way!

Away, evil woman!

Help!

Help! Hither!

Seize the miscreant! Hither!

Bar his path!

Bar his passage!

And though you flee from here and find all the roads in the world,

that road you seek, that path you shall not find,

for any path and passage that leads you away from me

l curse for you.

Stray and be lost!

You whom l know so well,

l give him into your power!

Halt! l have the right weapon to fell you!

The fool shall fall to me through his master's spear!

With this sign l rout your enchantment.

As the spear closes the wound which you dealt him with it,

may it crush your lying splendour into mourning and ruin!

You know where you can find me again!

From yonder came the groaning.

No beast cries so piteously,

least of all today on this most holy morning.

l seem to know that sound of lamenting.

Ha! She here again?

The rough wintry thorn has been concealing her: for how long?

Up! Kundry! Up!

Winter has fled and spring is here!

Awake! Awake to the spring!

Cold and stiff!

This time she may well be dead;

yet it was her groaning l heard.

You crazy woman! Have you no word for me?

Are these your thanks

for having woken you again from deathly sleep?

Let me serve, serve!

lt will give you little work!

We send out no more on messages:

herbs and roots each finds for himself;

we've learnt that from the beasts in the forest.

How differently she moves from before!

Has the holy day brought this about?

O day of mercy beyond compare!

lt was for her salvation that l woke that poor soul from the sleep of death.

Who there is approaching the holy spring,

in sombre apparel of war?

That is none of the brethren!

Greetings, guest!

Have you lost your way, and may l direct you?

Do you offer me no greeting?

Hey! What?

lf your vows constrain you to be silent to me

then mine charge me to tell you what is fitting.

Here you are in a hallowed place:

no man comes here armed,

with vizored helmet, shield and spear;

and today of all days!

Do you not know what holy day this is?

No? Then whence come you?

Among what heathen have you dwelt, not to know

that today is the supremely holy Good Friday?

Lay down your weapons!

Do not offend the Lord, who today, bereft of all arms,

offered his holy blood to redeem the sinful world!

Do you recognize him?

lt is he who once killed the swan.

lt is indeed he, the fool whom l wrathfully drove away.

Ah! How did he find the way?

The spear! l recognize it!

O most holy day for me to awaken to now!

l rejoice to have found you again!

Then you still know me too?

You recognize me again, though grief and care have bowed me so low?

How have you come now, and from where?

Through error and the path of suffering l came;

may l not think myself freed from it

now that l hear again the murmur of the forest

and greet you anew, good old man?

Or do l still err?

Everything seems changed.

But tell me: to whom were you seeking the way?

To him whose deep lamenting l once heard in foolish wonder,

to bring him salvation l dare think myself ordained.

But ah! An evil curse drove me about in trackless wandering,

never to find the way to healing;

numberless dangers, battles and conflicts forced me from my path

even when l thought l knew it.

Then l was forced to despair

of keeping unsullied the treasure

to be defended and guarded,

for which l earned wounds from every weapon;

for l dared not wield this itself in conflict;

unprofaned l have borne it beside me

and now bring it home,

gleaming clean and bright before you,

the holy spear of the Grail.

O mercy! Bounteous grace!

O wonder! Holy, highest wonder!

Sir knight!

lf it was a curse which drove you from the rightful path

be sure its power is broken.

Here you are: this is the domain of the Grail,

whose brotherhood awaits you.

Ah, it needs the healing,

the healing that you bring!

Since the day you tarried here,

the sorrow then made known to you,

the anguish, increased to the extremes of distress.

Amfortas, fighting against his wound, which brought torment to his soul,

in maddened defiance craved only for death.

No entreaties, no misery of his knights

could move him to perform again his holy office.

The Grail has long lain enclosed within the shrine;

thus its guardian, repentant of his sin,

hopes to hasten his end

since he cannot die while he beholds it,

and with his life to end his torment.

The divine bread is now denied us

and common food must sustain us;

thereby our heroes' strength is exhausted.

Never more do messages come here or calls from afar to holy war;

our dispirited and leaderless knighthood

wander about, pale and woeful.

ln this corner of the forest l myself lie hidden,

silently awaiting that death

to which my aged warrior lord surrendered.

For Titurel, my holy hero,

whom the sight of the Grail no longer revived,

is dead,

a man like all men!

And it is l, l, who caused all this woe!

Ah! what transgression, what burden of guilt

must my foolish head have borne from eternity,

since no repentance, no atonement can free me of my blindness.

Though l was appointed for deliverance

the last path of deliverance escapes me, lost as l am in hopeless error!

Not with this!

The holy spring itself shall refresh and bathe our pilgrim.

l suspect he has today to fulfil a lofty task,

to perform the holy office.

Then let him be free of stain

and the dust of lengthy wanderings now be washed from him.

Shall l be led today to Amfortas?

Assuredly. The great castle awaits us:

the solemn death-rites of my dear lord summon me within.

Once more to reveal to us the Grail,

once more to serve today the long-neglected office,

to sanctify the noble father

slain by his son's misdeed,

which he thus now may expiate:

this Amfortas has vowed to us.

You wash my feet,

now bathe my head, oh friend!

May this purity bless you, pure one!

Thus may the load of all guilt be washed away!

You have anointed my feet,

let Titurel's knight anoint my head

that he may greet me today as king!

Thus was it promised to us;

thus do l bless your head

as king to greet you.

Pure of heart!

Pitying sufferer, enlightened healer!

As you have endured the sufferings of the redeemed

lift the last burden from his head!

My first office l thus perform:

Receive this baptism and believe in the Redeemer!

How fair seem the meadows today!

Once l came upon magic flowers

which twined their tainted tendrils about my head;

but never did l see so fresh and charming

the grass, the blossoms and flowers,

nor did they smell so sweet of youth

or speak with such tender love to me.

That is the magic of Good Friday, my lord!

Alas for that day of utmost grief!

Now, l feel, should all that blooms, that breathes, lives and lives anew

only mourn and weep!

You see that it is not so.

lt is the tears of repentant sinners

that today with holy dew besprinkle field and meadow:

thus they make them flourish.

Now all creation rejoices at the Saviour's sign of love

and dedicates to him its prayer.

No more can it see him himself on the Cross;

it looks up to man redeemed,

who feels freed from the burden of sin and terror,

made clean and whole through God's loving sacrifice.

Now grasses and flowers in the meadow know

that today the foot of man will not tread them down,

but that, as God with divine patience pitied him and suffered for him,

so man today in devout grace will spare them with soft tread.

Thus all creation gives thanks,

all that here blooms and soon fades,

now that nature, absolved from sin,

today gains its day of innocence.

l saw them that once mocked me wither:

do they long for redemption today?

Your tears too are a dew of blessing:

you weep

and see, the meadow smiles.

Midday: the hour has come.

My lord, permit your servant to guide you!

We carry in its sheltering shrine

the Grail to the holy office;

whom do you shelter in yon gloomy shrine

and bear here in sorrow?

Within the shrine of mourning

lies the hero with the holy strength,

whom God himself once took as his guardian:

we bear Titurel hither.

Who brought him low

that, in God's keeping, once guarded God himself?

The conquering weight of years laid him low

since he no more might look upon the Grail.

Who barred him from looking upon the Grail?

He whom you carry there, its sinful guardian.

We bear him in today because once more,

for the last time, he will serve the office.

- Alas! Guardian of the Grail! - Ah, for the last time!

Ah, be mindful of your charge!

For the last time be mindful of your charge!

For the last time!

Alas indeed! Alas!

Woe be on me!

Thus l willingly cry with you.

More willingly yet would l accept from you death,

the lightest atonement for sin!

My father!

Most blessed of heroes!

Most pure,

to whom once the angels bowed:

l, who alone longed to die, to you brought death!

O you who in divine radiance

do behold the Redeemer's very self,

entreat of him

that his holy blood,

if once more today his blessing shall revive these my brothers,

as it gives them new life

may at least grant me death!

Death!

To die!

Unique mercy!

Take from me the hideous wound, the poison,

paralyze the heart it eats away!

My father!

As l call to you

l beg you call to him:

''Redeemer,''

''grant my son repose!''

Uncover the Grail!

Serve the office!

Your father exhorts you.

You must!

No! No more!

Ha! Already l feel the darkness of death enshroud me,

and must l yet again return to life?

Madmen! Who would force me to live?

Could you but grant me death!

Here l am, here is the open wound!

Here flows my blood, that poisons me.

Draw your weapons!

Plunge your swords in deep, deep, up to the hilt! Up!

You heroes!

Slay the sinner with his agony

then once more the Grail shall shine clear on you!

But one weapon serves:

only the spear that smote you can heal your wound.

Be whole, absolved and atoned!

For l now will perform your task.

Oh, blessed be your suffering

that gave pity's mighty power

and purest wisdom's might to the timorous fool!

l bring back to you the holy spear!

O supreme joy of this miracle!

This that could heal your wound

l see pouring with holy blood

yearning for that kindred fount

which flows and wells within the Grail.

No more shall it be hidden.

Uncover the Grail!

Open the shrine!

Miracle of supreme salvation:

our Redeemer redeemed!