Inconsolable anguish, I hail your sting!
Yesterday died the grey-eyed king.
The autumn evening was stifling and red,
My husband returned and casually said:
“Back from the hunt, with his body they walked,
They found him lying beside the old oak.
I pity the queen. So young! Passed away!...
In the span of a night, her hair became grey.”
He found his pipe and wandered outside,
And went off to work, like he did every night.
My daughter’s asleep. I’ll bid her to rise,
Only to gaze at her grey-colored eyes.
Outside the window, the poplars unnerved,
Whisper: “Your king is no more on this earth…”
Слава тебе, безысходная боль!
Умер вчера сероглазый король.
Вечер осенний был душен и ал,
Муж мой, вернувшись, спокойно сказал:
«Знаешь, с охоты его принесли,
Тело у старого дуба нашли.
Жаль королеву. Такой молодой!...
За ночь одну она стала седой».
Трубку свою на камине нашел
И на работу ночную ушел.
Дочку мою я сейчас разбужу,
В серые глазки ее погляжу.
А за окном шелестят тополя:
«Нет на земле твоего короля...»