Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах

Through the purple dusk on this pathless heath

Wanders a horse with his rider, Death.

The steed like his master is old and grim,

And the flame in his eye is burning dim.

The crown of the rider is red with gold.

For he is lord of the lea and the wold.

A-tween his ribs, against the sky

Glimmer the stars as he rideth by.

A hungry scythe o’er his shoulder bare

Glints afar through the darkening air.

And the sullen clank of his horse’s hoof

Frightens the Wanderer aloof.