Teeth she has none, she's decrepit,
Rumpled horns her age betray.
Hard blows the boor of а herdsman
Dealt her when she went astray.
Noise she dislikes, cannot stand it.
Cowshed-mice busily gnaw.
Sadly she thinks of the handsome
White-legged calf that she bore.
They took the son from his mother,
Her very first joy brought no ease,
And on а pole by the poplar
А fresh hide flapped in the breeze.
Soon in the field bare of buckwheat
She'll share her own son's fate,
They'll put her neck in а halter
And for the slaughter-house make.
She'll drop on her knees feebly, grieving,
Butting the earth to the last...
Of а white birch-grove she's dreaming
And of knee-deep meadow grass.
Дряхлая, выпали зубы,
Свиток годов на рогах.
Бил ее выгонщик грубый
На перегонных полях.
Сердце не ласково к шуму,
Мыши скребут в уголке.
Думает грустную думу
О белоногом телке.
Не дали матери сына,
Первая радость не прок.
И на колу под осиной
Шкуру трепал ветерок.
Скоро на гречневом свее,
С той же сыновней судьбой,
Свяжут ей петлю на шее
И поведут на убой.
Жалобно, грустно и тоще
В землю вопьются рога…
Снится ей белая роща
И травяные луга.