欢呼！向你致敬，哦，毫不动摇的痛苦！
灰色眼睛的年轻国王昨日被杀害。
这个秋天的黄昏闷热而艳红。
我的丈夫，归来，平静地说了。
“他要离开去打猎；他们把他带回家；
他们在一棵老橡树的穹顶下找到他。
我同情王后。他，这样英年早逝！...
一夜之间她的黑发变灰白。”
他在温暖的壁炉上发现他的烟斗，
安静地留给他看惯了的族种。
现在我女儿要醒来起床了--
妈妈要看着她可爱的灰色眼睛
窗边的白杨沙沙作响如歌唱，
“你再也见不到你年轻的国王...”
Hail! Hail to thee, o, immovable pain!
The young grey-eyed king had been yesterday slain.
This autumnal evening was stuffy and red.
My husband, returning, had quietly said,
"He'd left for his hunting; they carried him home;
They'd found him under the old oak's dome.
I pity the queen. He, so young, past away!...
During one night her black hair turned to grey."
He found his pipe on a warm fire-place,
And quietly left for his usual race.
Now my daughter will wake up and rise --
Mother will look in her dear grey eyes...
And poplars by windows rustle as sing,
"Never again will you see your young king..."
