There was a lad who once lived in our village,
He had a youthful bride with raven hair,
That self-same year when she and he turned twenty
Came war, and tore him from his bride so fair.
The hero’s bride is now a hero’s widow.
Her hair is grey, her eyes have lost their fire;
Their son, who bears his father’s name so precious,
Today is older than his fallen sire.
У юноши из нашего аула
Была черноволосая жена,
В тот год, когда по двадцать им минуло,
Пришла и разлучила их война.
Жена двадцатилетнего героя
Сидит седая около крыльца,
Их сын, носящий имя дорогое,
Сегодня старше своего отца.