Parsifal

l can hear that groaning. No beast makes so sad a sound

least of all today, the holiest day of all.

l think l recognise that doleful cry.

Yes, here again, amongst this wintry thicket of thorns.

Up, Kundry, up! Winter has fled, and spring has come.

So wake now, awaken to spring!

Cold and stiff.

This time she may truly be dead.

Yet was it not her groaning l heard?

Tormented soul, have you no word for me?

ls this my thanks for waking you from deathlike slumber once again?

Serve...

You' ll find few ways to serve.

We have no messages to send.

And now each brother forages for his own food

just like the beasts of the woods.

What brought about this change in her?

Can this holy day be the cause?

O day of unexampled mercy!

Surely she will find salvation

since it was granted me to end her deathly slumber.

Who's approaching the holy spring?

Why does he carry a weapon?

He's no one from our order.

Greetings, my guest.

lf you have strayed, perhaps l could guide you.

You offer me no greeting, then?

You may have taken a vow of silence

but my vow bids me to say what is proper here.

For you now tread on holy ground

unsuited to a show of arms, unsuited to a spear.

Do you not know what holy day this is?

What heathen land have you come from

that you do not know you are here on Good Friday's blessed morn?

Away with weapons on this day that honours our Lord, who had none

but shed His blood and died to redeem a sinful world.

Do you know this man? lt is he who shot the swan.

lt is indeed the fool l so harshly drove away.

And yet he found the way back!

The Spear! l know it now.

O holiest of days! And l have lived to see it!

Praise God! l have found you again.

You recognise me still, though grief burdens me?

How did you find the way?

By straying on the path of sorrow

which l hope is now behind me.

For once again l listen to woodland murmurs

and hear your welcome, kindly Father.

Or am l still lost?

Everything seems different.

Whom have you been seeking?

Him whose cry of anguish l once heard with foolish awe

him whose promised healing has now become my task.

But the road was denied me by a curse that made me stray.

Perils and conflicts forced me from my path.

Almost despairing of my task, l strove to keep the Spear unsullied.

So doing, l suffered many wounds

for it may never be used in battle.

At my side have l borne it, undefiled, and now l shall restore it.

Forever shining, bright and pure

the Grail's own hallowed Spear.

O highest, healing grace!

O holiest of wonders!

My lord!

Perhaps a curse has kept you from your chosen path

but now that spell is broken, and you are in the Grail's domain.

lts brotherhood awaits you.

They need healing, the healing you will bring.

Since you were last here, our sorrow has grown deeper

and left us prey to fears and doubts.

Amfortas struggles with the torment that afflicts his soul and body

and now, in wild defiance, he longs for death.

No pleading from his subjects moves him to uncover the Holy Chalice.

lts shrine long shrouded, it remains unseen.

Because its sinful guardian is kept from dying by its light

he now longs to perish so that he may end his pain forever.

Deprived of our holy nourishment

we must feed on common fare.

And so our courage faded with our strength.

We are no longer called upon to wage God's battles.

Pale, dejected, wandering and lost, our brotherhood is leaderless.

Here in this forest l live alone, awaiting death in silence

so that l may rejoin the knight l served.

For Titurel, my pious lord, without the Grail to sustain him

has died - a man like all men.

And l alone caused all these woes!

Of what unforgiven sin am l deemed guilty

that no atonement can cure my blindness?

Though chosen to act as Saviour. . .

l lost myself in error, and salvation's path still eludes me.

Not that!

The holy spring should cool our pilgrim's brow.

l sense some solemn task awaits him

perhaps a call to holy office.

Let him be free of stain and the dust of his wanderings.

Let all be washed away.

Shall l be taken to Amfortas today?

Most surely. The lofty hall awaits.

The funeral of my noble lord demands my presence there.

The Grail, once more, shall be unveiled.

The long-neglected office shall again be enacted.

ln honouring his noble father, who died because of him

the son will seek to be absolved.

For thus Amfortas swore.

You bathed my feet with water.

Now, friend, let my brow be moistened.