Years are passing.
It seems as if they are becoming weaker and weaker.
Years illuminate our way to Avalon,
fantastic island.

If this fog vanishes
from the shore of the lake,
I'll be able to stand up and live my life.
If my wind is clear.
I will not forget anything.

Everything slides into the darkness.
You can see me going away,
You can hear me if I'm calling on you,
and I'll take you on high:
to Avalon, fantastic island.