The battle is thundering, the armour is shining,
Copper cannons are roaring,
The troops are running, the horses are rushing
And red rivers are flowing.
The midday is blazing -- people are fighting,
The sun is declining -- the fight is stronger,
The sunset is fading away -- but the enemies
Are still battling more fierce and hateful.
And night has fallen on the battlefield.
The armies have parted in the darkness...
Everything has fallen quiet, and in the night's mist
The groans have risen to the heavens.
Then, illuminated by moonlight,
On her battle horse,
Shining with the whiteness of her bones,
Appeared Death; and in the silence,
Taking in moans and prayers,
Full of proud satisfaction,
Like a field marshal she circled around
The place of battle,
And having ridden to the top on the hill,
looked around, stopped, smiled....
(continued in part 2)

(translation by Sergey Rybin)