On the death of Prince Meshchersky

On the death of Prince Meshchersky
Verb of tenses! the clink of metal!
Your terrible voice confuses me,
Calling me, calling your moan ,
Calling-and to a coffin brings.
Barely saw I this light,
Already teeth death grinds,
Like lightning, the scythe shines
And my days, like grass, whips.

Nothing from the fatal kohta,
No creature escapes:
The monarch and the prisoner - food for worms,
The tombs of the anger of the elements has eaten ;
Gaping glory time to erase:
As the sea pour fast water,
So in eternity poured days and years;
Greedy swallows of the Kingdom of death.

We slide the abyss on the edge ,
In that headlong fall;
Is acceptable with lives death its,
In fact, to die, to be born.
Without mercy, all death reeks:
And the stars will crumble,
And the suns will be extinguished by it,
And all the worlds it threatens.

Do not thinks only death to die
And be himself he is eternal chaet ;
Death comes to him like a thief ,
And life snesapu steals.
Alas! where the less fear we,
There can death to grasp rather;
Its and thunder not faster
Fly to proud heights.

Son of luxury, cool and neg ,
Where, Meshchersky! you hid?