Hail glorious grief! For yesterday died —
Passed away irreplaceably the king with gray eyes.
That evening in autumn was scarlet and sad,
My husband came home and tranquilly said:
“From the forest they brought him, he was hunting, you see,
They found his body by an old oak tree.
Poor Queen! So youthful she was! So gay!...
In one night she has aged and her hair turned gray.”
On the fireplace ledge he found his pipe,
Then left for his work in the midst of the night.
I’ll rush to my daughter, I’ll tell her to rise,
I’ll be looking intently inside her gray eyes.
The poplars are rustling by the window tonight:
“You won’t see your king anymore — he has died.”
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...»