In the hut late sometimes
Slavyanka young sitting.
Away purple stripes
On the glow lit the sky ...
And baby cradle swinging,
Poet Slav young ...
"Do not Cry, do not Cry! Do you hear the heart of Ile,
Child, you close trouble!..
ABOUT, полно, sooner you long:
I am of you will not leave.
Rather, I lose my husband.
Child, do not Cry! And I'll pay!
your father became an honor and God
Among the fighters against the Tatars,
The bloody trail him the way,
His damask glitters, as fever.
Look, it glow red:
That battle is sowing the seed of death.
How glad I am, you can not
Understand the dangers of its,
Do not weep at the graves of the children;
Alien to them and shame and fear circuits;
Their fate worthy of envy ... "
suddenly the noise, - and the door comes a warrior.
Brada blood, beaten armor.
"It is finished! - he exclaims, –
happened! celebration, damn!..
Our dear edge enslaved,
Tatar swords are not kept -
Horde took, and our lights ».
And he fell - and die
Bloody soldier death.
wife raises the child
Above the pale head of his father:
"Look, people die,
And revenge learn from a woman's breast!..»