When the green turf will hide my dust,
When, STRAIGHT with a short-lived existence,
I will only sound in your mouth,
Only a shadow in your mind;
When friends mladye at feasts
I will not remember the wine,
Then take a simple harp you,
She was my friend and a friend of dreams.
Hang it in the house against the window,
That autumn wind played over it
And so she said to him
Though the songs echo of past days;
But not wake sonorous strings
Under the snow-white hand your,
Then that he, who sang thy love,
Too will sleep, so as not to wake up again.