| I heed the warrior’s call
|
| It’s time to act now
|
| Let us cross the dagger and the rose
|
| Let us form a holy miltia
|
| To revive the nobility of mankind
|
| Angels at our side
|
| O Parsifal
|
| Now let your trumpets blow
|
| Here we restore
|
| The cult of the ideal
|
| In all its splendor
|
| Religion became art to talk to the masses
|
| Art shall turn into religion
|
| To speak to the elite
|
| O Parsifal
|
| Now let your trumpets blow
|
| Open the door of the temple
|
| The temple to the Art-God
|
| If the thinkers crystallize reflection
|
| Come what may
|
| Artists must glorify reality
|
| Conquer
|
| We have to conquer the city of light
|
| Conquer
|
| We might be few against many
|
| But I can feel
|
| But I can feel the angel’s breath
|
| By our side
|
| While some deride my exertions
|
| I am the harbinger of a new religion
|
| Beauty is the purpose
|
| Art is the means
|
| The only single rule to follow
|
| Is the ideal
|
| Angels are at our side
|
| O Parsifal
|
| Now let your trumpets blow
|
| Here we restore
|
| The cult of the ideal
|
| In all its splendor
|
| We shelter only what summons all perfections
|
| The lordy rapture will survive
|
| The piety of the past
|
| O Parsifal
|
| Now let your trumpets blow
|
| Open the door of the temple
|
| The temple to the Art-God |