The souls are approaching their destinies
Trembling in darkness and lost
By the Acheron river they gather confused
And
slowly the ferry arrives
A man silhouette through the sulfurean mists
On the boat that carries the dead
Its voice comes
profoundly
Resounding in the air
In awe the shadows retreat
A figure in black
Fiery and grim
Tall, skinny old
man
Charon (lunga e sfuma sulla prossima parola)
Woe to you
Wicked spirits! Hope not
Ever to see the sky again
I come
to take you
To the other shore across
Into eternal darkness, there to dwell
In fierce heat and in ice
Sighs...
lamentations...
Loud Moans... Dispair...
The old man is here to collect them all
Those spirits, faint and naked, gashing
their teeth
Demoniac figure with coal burning eyes
Beckons and strikes with his oar
All those who linger on the dark wretched
strand
Voice outcrying deep and hoars
[Chorus]