The Gudal's family are in the tears now,
And people all are crowding in yard...
Who's horse ran into, all in soap,
And fallen down the gates behind?
Who was that lifeless rider on it's saddle?
The traces of the martial trouble clear are seen
In the swarthy wrinkles on his face's oval;
The blood was on his clothes and weapon,
His hand was clutching tight the horse's mane
In his last movement, crazy by the way.
Thus, not for long, the girl was waiting
For her young bridegroom, he had come,
And kept his word, the true knyaz rating,
By visiting the wedding feast. But vain.
Alas! He couln't ride his horse again,
And never will become alive one day!