The well-cleaned lid is almost completely covered with snow, so that the shine of the shellac initially fades into winter's splendor. The moonlight enchantingly envelops this wing like a cocoon around the grub and like a coffin around the corpse inside. What mercy in this world has this creature placed here? The body legs, so gently polished, have disappeared to a small extent in the snow and almost resemble this picture of grace. Next to it, the fir trees appear well connected, as if they were standing in a circle, like the cross on the grave recently, it seems, just for decoration.
The dark fellow stands in front of it, intoxicated, and caresses all the snow from the dark red velvet of the stool. He leans the fork against the body and gains access to the keys by lifting the wet keyboard cover with deft hands to catch an art song for himself. The servant with his red kissing lips takes off his loden coat and wipes the snow off the wonderful varnish of the spruce wood frame in one go. Now the creature could really be seen in all its splendor. How beautifully is the music gathered in a single thing? The dark fellow stares at this unspeakable gift with wet eyes. He sits persistently on the stool and plays a flawless death song, dedicated to all the already and soon-to-be dead on this bitterly cold night. Together they - the dark fellow and his shrill servant - sing a song full of resentment and horror, of art and death, of atonement and retribution, before they - eagerly - set off for that old haunt. ft above the tree line, where in the splendor of winter a self-appointed judge brings together ice and blood.
[FOREST WOMAN, narrator:]
Night returns to the forest's dark heightsâ
and leans boldly towards the horror.
The devil, beguiled, absorbs the power of winter.
He feels resentful resentment and flows in the mountain's peaceful peace!
[THE DARK COMPANY:]
I am winter's dark companion!
I am a damned man who climbs in the fountain of darkness
down to the abyss, to the deepest placeâ,
and then, inflamed, screams to heaven:
âI am free after all. I am free in your splendor
and I punish loudly whoever is full of misery
looks at you tormentingly, sadly and sinfully
like an empty fool.
Tann, in Your splendor of murder suddenly delights me.
and passion rushes and rushes me!â
[FOREST WOMAN, narrator:]
Intoxicated, he feels the force of the fir trees.
In a white frenzy he now wants to show off.
Fooled by death, the splendor freezes.
The game of wings holds him captive.
The clown smears his mouth and cheeks.
He shows himself to be merciful.
Of art and murder. From that place.
Soon he will be terribly afraid.
[Piano]
[THE DARK COMPANY:]
How wonderfully the night catches me,
her pull constantly guides me.
Is she releasing me?
Is she letting me pass death?
[FOREST WOMAN, narrator:]
The night lingers in the forest's dark heights
and leans boldly towards horror.
The devil, beguiled, absorbs the power of winter.
He feels resentment and flows in Peace to the mountainsâ!

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