The night wanes, Dark grows my vision; I cannot find The threads of the rope; The strands are twisted and loose. A horrible sight Wildly vexes mine eyes: The Rhinegold That black Alberich stole. Knowest thou more thereof?
The Second Norn
[With laborious haste winds the rope round the jagged rock at the mouth of the cave.]
The rock's sharp edge Is cutting the rope; The threads loosen Their hold and grow slack; They droop tangled and frayed. From woe and wrath Rises the Nibelung's ring A curse of revenge Ruthlessly gnaws at the strands:-- Canst thou the end foretell?
The Third Norn
[Hastily catching the rope which is thrown to her.]
The rope is too short, Too loose it hangs; It must be stretched, Pulled straighter, before Its end can reach to the north!
[She pulls hard at the rope, which breaks.]
It breaks!
The Second Norn
It breaks!
The Third Norn
It breaks!
[They take the pieces of broken rope and bind their bodies together with them.]
The Three Norns
So ends wisdom eternal! The wise ones Will utter no more. Descend to Erda! Descend!
[They vanish. The dawn grows brighter; the firelight from the valley gradually fades. Sunrise; then broad daylight.]
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