O Muse, take pity one me! For I cannot retell half as well as thee!

Daedalus, Daedalus, creator of many the glorious thing,

Daedalus, Daedalus, the one who gave Man wing,

In Crete, that wretched place,

 Daedalus, Daedalus, that golden mind,

witnessed the fall from Grace.

Daedalus, Daedalus, the mind unparalleled,

saw vanity within his son, even as it swelled,

and saw it once more as Icarus it felled,

Alas! Alas! Lament! Lament!

Daedalus, Daedalus, the creator of many things,

He who built the Labyrinth,

He who constructed the Wooden Cow,

And he who so delicately crafted the Wings,

The Wings, the Wings, marvelous things!

He gave them the Eagle’s feather,

The Wings, the Wings, wonderful things!

He with golden wax did he seal.

The Wings, the Wings, glorious things!

Which in wake he did only sorrow feel.

“Fly not so high, not to the sun,” he must’ve said.

“Fly not so high, not so high!” and Icarus was dead.

The Wings, the Wings, wretched things!

O darkest day!

The Wings, the Wings, accursed things!

For reaching too far must man pay!

As Narcissus had his pool,

Icarus was Vanity’s fool.

Daedalus, Daedalus, he knew, he saw.

Daedalus, Daedalus, bore witness to the fall.

Daedalus, Daedalus, he looked into the sea,

And saw not him the fault of Icarus,

But the faults of you and me,

It is not Icarus but rather us,

who would go too far.

It is not only he but you and me,

who would fly into the morning star.

Daedalus, Daedalus, he reaped what he did sow,

sadness, sadness, vanity of a son, and much sorrow.

In wretched Crete it was now complete, ending with death,

Daedalus, Daedalus, he did escape with waxen wings,

But lived not whole until his dying breath,

Daedalus, Daedalus, witness to the fall,

Daedalus, Daedalus, passed judgment upon us all.